


Hail Mary Past

by MonCoeur



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Older Steve and Younger Steve, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 03, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It, the slowest burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonCoeur/pseuds/MonCoeur
Summary: “And if this works,” Steve's eyes shut tight, he needs a breath before he can continue, “it could change the world for good? I mean, for the better?”When he opens his eyes, El is almost smiling.“You have a chance to make a version of us happy. This is it for us, but if you succeed they will live long, and happily. If you don't succeed, they will follow our path and find the same end, and we will all be done,” she says gently. The truth never sounded so impossible and hopeful in the same breath.Her fingers tighten on his arms, and Steve knows they are out of time.“What do I have to do?”“When you get there, teach me about short cuts,” she says, and then everything about her intensifies, “But first you have to save Billy Hargrove.”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 97
Kudos: 186





	1. The Darkest Timeline

**Author's Note:**

> From an idea that had me thinking, 'Sheesh, I'd def read a story about that.'
> 
> AKA Stranger Things meets Terminator? 
> 
> Please enjoy this unedited work, my first story posted to this site(and first in like suuuuch a long time posting anywhere). 
> 
> Stay safe and happy reading.

The Mind Flayer gets Billy Hargrove.

The gate gets Jim Hopper.

The rest of them are left to try to heal and try to move on, except it's not the end of the Upside Down.

“It's never going to end,” El whispers to them one day a few years later, too tired to cry, blood trailing from her nose.

The Russians had continued experiments. Steve finds out first, when he runs into Hopper over a year after he'd died – dishevelled, about thirty pounds less than he's seen him last, shirt ripped and bloodied from the fresh bite marks across his ribs.

“There's more. It's bigger than we ever thought,” he rasps when he's finally conscious enough to speak. The Byers' return to Hawkins within a week.

A gate rips open out of control in Russia, but it's not the only place. Taking care of the mess under Hawkins bought them some time to fortify, but it's difficult for anyone to truly feel safe. Not with people, then cities, and then countries start falling to creatures of unimaginable horror. Not many live to tel the tale. Mind Flayers escape, their herd of the flayed spreading like wildfire. Trust is hard to come by. Quarantines and lock downs begin to get violent, and then begin to fail. 

Eventually the American government remember Eleven, get it into their heads that it's her responsibility to be at the forefront of this fight – as if she hadn't been already since she was a girl. They come for her, but the others protect her. They have killed Will and captured Mike before she has enough and goes with them. She is 18. They keep Mike as collateral, despite the promise to let him go if she cooperates. 

Two years go by before they see either of them again. By this time they each have a favourite weapon and Dustin's lost an arm, but Hawkins has become a beacon of hope in a world of turmoil. They are strong and battle ready. They know how to fight these things.

When El comes back she has four others with her, Kali among them, all with numbers on their wrists. They go by Cam, Leigh, and Greg. They are what remains of a secret 'research' division that couldn't hold up.

“They still wanted something from us, from the Upside Down,” El tells them, “But it doesn't work that way.”

“Mike?” Nancy asks hopefully.

El's expression hardens. “They took him when everything began falling apart. I'm going to find him.”

“She needs rest,” the one with 04 stamped on his wrist, Greg, says, all distrust.

The arrival of El with four powerful allies boosts morale but also lets their guard down. They are making plans a week later when one of the flayed gets into Hawkins. Mr. Wheeler and Mrs. Sinclair are lost to it before they know what's going on. 

As practiced and prepared as they might have been, it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time to dismantle Hawkins. The town falls, and the group has to prioritize to save anyone at all. Dead bodies litter the street, torn to unrecognizable pieces. Joyce stays behind, a suicide mission to distract so that the others can leave.

“Mom, no!” Jonathan tries to take her place. Hopper tries harder.

“You've already come back from the dead,” she tells Jim and then hugs Jonathan, tight and tearful, “I'm sorry. I just can't leave Will.”

They make it out, from one nightmare straight to the next.

They meet up with others who try to steal their gear. They almost lose Holly to kidnapping. An attache of government officials periodically find them, trying to convince the Numbered to rejoin them mostly by manipulation and brute force(but ultimately fail). They fight a lot of demodogs and demogorgons. A lot. 

They manage to kill another Mind Flayer on Lucas' twenty third birthday. By the end of the fight he is dead and Max is screaming over his body. Nancy will never walk the same again, and Robin lost an eye in the fight.

Mike finds them, he's part of the next group of officials to try and talk sense into El. Come back and work with the military, he says, to 'take control of the situation'.

“What the hell did they do to you?” Steve asks the question on everyone's mind. The Mike they all knew would never talk like this, but he supposes five years of brainwashing might change anyone's mind.

“Has it been that long, Mike?” El whispers, “Friends don't lie.”

El loses a part of her soul that day. They are able to lie low for a week before she tells them something.

“I think it's time to try The Last Plan,” she scowls as she says it, in her careful way that tells of how big a deal this is likely to be, “It probably won't work. If it does, I could simply lose myself to it, or it might rip everything open. They wouldn't need gates to get in.”

“Too risky. We don't do things that risky,” Nancy says.

“Everything we do is that risky,” Dustin retaliates.

“Has been for a long time,” Steve adds, then looks to El, “What do you need from us?”

What they need is a gate. It's not hard to find one these days, they're everywhere.

They make camp nearby and then settle for a group discussion, because if this plan works there's no going back. Life is about survival now, to live would mean to hide, fight, and flee, over and over and over again. El's plan – whatever it is – would be a fight to the death.

It turns out that Nancy is pregnant. She leaves with Jonathan, Mrs. Wheeler and Holly, Erica and Mr. Sinclair go with them. Their goodbye is too short and awful. Steve hides his best sidearm in the glovebox while they're packing their van with supplies, it is a parting gift, and his last attempt to protect any of them. He knows that they want to look after what is left of their families, but he still doesn't get it. There is no real life to go out and find. All there is now is to kill as many of the shadow creatures as you can before you die.

Dustin, somehow now three inches taller than him, swings his arm over Steve's shoulders as he stares after the van. “C'mon, man. El wants to get started as soon as possible.”

Her plan, it turns out, was the right risk to take.

At the very least it feels that way, once she finds a way to transport them in the Upside Down to another open gate. “Let's take a short cut,” she'll say, and as the rift between dimensions opens, they come out with guns blazing wherever the gate may be. From a small town in the USA to somewhere in Canada, or Morocco, Russia - anywhere. El needs a long time to heal after these raids, but over time they perfect them. They kill so many creatures. They shut down research stations. Although impossible to stop completely, they at least delay the total destruction of the world. 

Max and Dustin marry by the bullshit power vested in Hopper on New Years Eve, 1999. 

A month later they lose Kali at the end of a raid. On their way back through the gate, through the Upside Down to the gate they'd come from, a demodog comes out of nowhere and leaps, catching her throat as it tackles her to the ground. El is in her trance in the Upside Down, concentrating on keeping both gates open. Greg reacts instantly, while his power to slow down time for a few seconds is usually very useful to giving them a head start getting into position or getting an idea of what waits for them on the other side of a new gate, this time merely lets them see the exact moment Kali's eyes go lifeless. 

El is quiet afterwards, but they all are. It had all gone fine, and now suddenly another of them is gone. Greg blames himself for not noticing the demodog early enough. He won't listen when all of the others tell him it's not his fault. Steve, who has spent the last eight years getting to know Greg and ignoring his actual thoughts about the man, talks at length that night for so long about why it's not Greg's fault that Greg shuts him up by kissing him. 

Robin, of course, wolf whistles from across the fire pit.

Two weeks go by before El finally admits that there's been something on her mind. She's always been the kind to digest new information, explore it on her own before sharing it with the others. It's the one thing that still really gets Hopper's fatherly instincts riled up, to this day.

“The void, in the Upside Down, is brighter. It's all swirling, murky colour. When Greg slowed time, I think...” El breathes, uncertain but determined, “There were pictures. Moving pictures, all around. Live feeds of different worlds, maybe? Different times?”

And then, to general disbelief.

“What if we could go back, and fix things?”

There are discussions, arguments, and experiments. They are patient, and intersperse the 'research' with the work they've been doing for the last few years. They run across the other half of their crew once in all this time, they lost Mr. Sinclair, but Joyce Byers is a gem and already six. 

“Call me 'Joy',” she tells them before they part ways again.

With Max, Dustin, Robin, and Hopper keeping lookout outside of a gate, El, Greg, Cam, and Leigh head inside. Every attempt reaps more information, more questions, more certainty. 

“We're only going to have one chance,” El likes to remind them, “Not a short cut.”

She means there won't be any way to come back through.

“We can't all go,” is another certainty she shares with them over time, “if I connect with a gate to a past moment in time I think it will shatter everything if we all try to go through.”

No one wants to find out what it would mean if the boundaries of the void shattered completely. 

“Too soon,” she says when they start asking when, “Need to find the right time to go back, the right thing to change.”

“Be careful,” Greg likes to tell Steve, the moment before he steps after El into the Upside Down. Steve always gives him a crooked grin, because it's a crazy thing for him to say when he's obviously the one about to do the more dangerous thing. 

Robin's the one who has to tell him that when he says 'Be Careful' he means something else entirely. 

The next time, Steve beats him to it. “Be careful,” he says, low enough that Greg can tell he finally gets it. His smile before he follows El is bright enough that it sears itself across Steve's heart. 

One year passes, and then a couple more after.

El comes out of a research period absolutely shaking. She goes straight to Max and hugs her tight, and then she finds Steve and fixes her hands on his shoulders.

“Know what to do,” she tells them all, but her next words are for Steve, “Have to send you.”

She won't give any of them any more details. It drives Hopper mad, and Steve thinks he finally gets it. 

“Last resort,” she says, mostly. One memorable time when they're having a good day, considering, she eyes Steve teasingly, “Understand basketball better? This move is our Hail Mary.”

They trudge along for almost another year, battle hardened. Experts, now, at living in this dystopian future. It's a handful of months after Steve's thirty seventh birthday when they are absolutely blindsided during a raid. Steve's clutching to Robin's lifeless body while Greg is being dragged away, unconscious, by the tentacles of a pieced together Mind Flayer. Its human counterpart is Mike, and he is standing at its side, watching in satisfaction and showing no signs of trying to fight it. The military are here, protecting Mike and the monsters. They take down Hopper, and then Cam. Leigh gets knocked out and dragged away, probably to try and be reconditioned along with Greg. Max is trying in vain to keep Dustin awake, but he is on his back with most of his intestines on the floor beside him. El has tried to talk to Mike, but it's over now, isn't it? Is everything really over? It feels like the end of the world, so of course that's when El yells at Steve.

“Hail Mary, Steve!” 

But he doesn't want to, he doesn't have anything left in him to fight with, does he? They stole it when they stole Robin, and Greg – his body is yanked back, and he grapples with but cannot hold onto Robin when he is pulled. He lands beside El just inside the gate, the eery stillness of the Upside Down suffocating him. 

“Steve.”

“Seriously, El? Don't you think it's too late for - “

“Too late for this world, this future, yes. Still a chance for another,” she says, tired, sure.

“They took Greg. Mike took Greg, how can you even - “

“Only focusing on one moment in time,” she tells him quietly, straightening him up, giving him her weapons, securing the zipper on his backpack, wiping at the blood and sweat on his cheeks, “Know what it feels like.”

“And if this works,” Steve's eyes shut tight, he needs a breath before he can continue, “it could change the world for good? I mean, for the better?” 

When he opens his eyes, El is almost smiling.

“You have a chance to make a version of us happy. If you succeed we will all be done, but they will live long, and happily. If you don't succeed, they will follow our path and find the same end, and we will all be done,” she says gently. The truth never sounded so impossible and hopeful in the same breath.

Her fingers tighten on his arms, and Steve knows they are out of time.

“What do I have to do?”

“When you get there, teach me about short cuts,” she says, and then everything about her intensifies, “But first you have to save Billy Hargrove.”


	2. Get Back In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm Steve Harrington from the future,” he explained wearily, “I came through a crack in the void in the Upside Down, led me straight to the gate downstairs.”
> 
> “What?” Joyce was having none of it, but neither was Steve.
> 
> “Oh my God, you just fought a guy who was possessed by a monster from another dimension that made him kill people so that he could congeal their remains together to create a really gross physical form for himself in this reality,” Steve didn't care anymore, “this is not that unbelievable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy continue to enjoy it!
> 
> With this, the story truly begins!

[Steve, 37]

Save Billy Hargrove, she said.

 _First_.

As if everything else hinged on it. As if maybe everything that had gone wrong for the last 20 years wouldn't have happened if Billy had lived. Leave it to El to give him the final, most important instruction in all of this without even a chance to elaborate whatsoever. Steve hadn't bothered El with any of his wild thoughts as he hugged her tight and let go, as she sank into a trance and opened a window into a moment and Steve stepped through before he lost his nerve. His whole body burned, but he paid no attention to any of it because although the pressure squeezed at his eardrums and he could feel something vibrating deep in his bones, when he came to he was stepping out of a gate – the one he remembered from all of those years ago, from under the mall in Hawkins.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Steve wiped at a few errant tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Somehow El had done it, she'd gone for the Hail Mary and the shot had landed, “Nothing but net.”

Something welled up in his chest that was suddenly easy to ignore when someone shouted in Russian and a few shots rang out.

“ _Shit_ ,” he repeated, ducking immediately, remembering that he needed to be in control of this. He had a job to do, and he was way too far under the mall to be in any position to get it done from here.

Steve bolted forward and was able to hide under the metal staircase well enough to settle so that he could aim and take out the shouting Russian with one bullet. Someone came up behind him but they hadn't been quiet about it, so Steve found it easy to pop an elbow into their nose, he sucker punched their stomach when he turned and then laid them out with a practiced uppercut.

Making quick work of taking their badge and coat, Steve lost the hairband that kept his bangs back and shoved the guy's surgical cap over his hair. Not much of a disguise, but it would have to do. Slipping his backpack over a shoulder with his gun tucked in one hand by his side, Steve started to move. He kept his head down and didn't stop until someone made him, and then he made quick work of them before stepping over them to keep forward.

He had a short knife on him, but thankfully El had also given him hers. Tucked precariously in the front pocket of his backpack, he knew he'd need that to fight the Mind Flayer once all of his bullets were gone. Hand fighting was his friend until he got up there, preserving as much as he could. He didn't recognize anyone until he opened a door and spilled out into the open rotunda area of the mall. There were figures on the level above them shooting off fireworks – oh my god, _he_ was up there somewhere, wasn't he? - and he passed by a couple of kids as he rounded the creature from behind, gaping to see that Billy already had his hands up, stopping the creature from attacking El. His scream got Steve's blood boiling with the need to move _faster_ , but by the time he got a shot at the creature it had already sunk one of its gross tentacle mouths into Billy's side.

“ _Shit_ ,” Steve emptied the clip into the creature's soft spots, too satisfied to be scared when tentacles' attention refocused towards him instead of Billy. He tossed his gun to the side and slid his backpack off his shoulders so that he could pull the long knife from the front pocket and throw the backpack aside as well.

“Come on, bitch,” he murmured to the creature, ready to dodge when the first tentacle jotted forward, and hacked at it from the side in retaliation.

As he fought the creature Steve couldn't spare even a second to see how Billy was doing or what the others were up to. Had someone gone to get him yet? Or were they all too busy watching him fight to go and see if he was still alive or not? A tentacle clouded his peripheral vision, and Steve threw his arm up just in time. The spiked leather arm guard might have been hidden by the sleeve of the lab coat he'd taken off that guy from downstairs, but it was enough that the tentacle recoiled the moment it tried to latch on. Steve grinned darkly and ducked under one of the monster's legs, jabbing with his knife as he went.

Fighting alone like this opened his eyes to how spoiled he'd been the last few years, not only because his crew was just as experienced as he was, but El had become an expert in keeping them all updated telepathically while she could during a fight. No longer. The only El available to him now was still a child, and all he could do was keep his eyes open, his feet moving, and his knife slashing

Suddenly there was nothing to dodge except for the creature itself – it was an empty entity now, and Steve scrambled to get out of its way as it fell. He almost made it, if only he'd moved half a second sooner. Tripped up, he landed on his face with a monstrous limb across his back pressing him to the floor, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

When his lungs finally filled with enough air once more he made quick work of freeing himself. The leg trapping him was solid and sticky, but he was able to kick it off his legs and then struggle up to his hands and knees with a grunt. He ducked his head, rolled his shoulders, and the leg flopped to the floor in front of him.

He could feel the residue from the leg sticking to the skin at the back of his neck, and a wildly misplaced thought was glad about the scrub cap covering his hair. Skin darkened by sweat and bloodied ash, Steve straightened to standing and turned. Adrenalin gave purpose to his focused movements – _save Billy Hargrove_. It's possible he had a cracked rib or two, but even still he wouldn't be able to breathe easy until he knew he'd actually accomplished the one thing he truly needed to do.

Barely slowing when he scooped up his backpack, Steve kept his eyes on where Billy Hargrove lay on the floor. Max was on her knees beside him, and wasn't that a trip? She blocked his view, and Lucas didn't help either where he stood at her side bent over Billy's body as well. Steve could tell his hands were hovering, uncertain.

 _Shit_ , he thought, heart and feet both picking up their pace. He rounded by Billy's feet, let out a big breath of relief as Billy's chest heaved. Uneven and stuttering breaths meant that he was in pain, which meant that not only was he still alive, but he was conscious enough to feel.

“You are one lucky bastard,” Steve ignored the others completely. He could only deal with one major thing at a time right now, and Billy's grimacing expression and the gaping would at his side was it.

Tunnel vision kept him on task, which meant that even though he knew there were others freaking out around him, he wasn't part of it. Billy's left hand was pressed hard against his wound even though it wasn't big enough to cover it. Blood too black to be natural trickled around his fingers, streaming down his hand, along his wrist, and dripped onto the floor. He'd need a new shirt, Steve noted pragmatically, and then really got to work.

“Hold his hand tight and don't let go,” he ordered over Billy's body, uncaring if it was Max or Lucas listening to him as long as someone followed his request. The other hand he forced off of the wound, bringing it down to the ground and pressing his knee on Billy's wrist to make sure he wouldn't be able to get in the way. If they got him to the hospital fast enough to close this thing up, this wound wouldn't be fatal, but Steve had seen enough of these tentacle things attack in his life, he knew what they left behind.

Lifting Billy's thin shirt off his stomach, Steve sliced at it with his knife and then ripped away a large piece of material. He wiped at the wound in order to get a better look and then turned toward his backpack, rooting around until he found the jar he needed. Twisting off the lid, he dipped the tip of the knife in and withdrew it, satisfied with its new coating of dusty paste. Jar and lid abandoned at his side, Steve held the tip of the knife as close to the wound as he could without touching it, shifting around to free his left leg so that he could withdraw the small dagger he had tucked down the side of his boot.

“Oh my god.”

“What are you _doing_ to him?”

Oh yeah, Steve's scowled deepened, he was years back in a brand new old world where no one knew what the hell was going on.

“Just – I know what I'm doing, okay? Give me a minute to get rid of the souvenir the monster left behind,” he didn't look up when he spoke since Max didn't seem like she was ready to let go of Billy's hand any time soon. They were scared and had no idea what was happening, but at least they were listening to him.

Billy gasped, twitching. Whatever he felt had him trying to sit up and get a good, fearful look at the hole in his side.

“Head back, Hargrove, and take a deep breath,” Steve snapped his warning, “You're not going to want to see this and it's going to hurt like a bitch.”

They didn't have long to wait. The wriggling thing left behind by the Mind Flayer started moving, worming its way back toward the paste, only knowing that there was something familiar close by. Billy screamed just before it showed its murky head peeping out of the wound. Lucas wasn't the only one who gagged at the site of it, but he was the loudest. Steve ignored it all in order to jab sharply with the knife, pulling back just as quick once the blade snagged into the thing's slimy skin. With more of its body showing he was able to pierce its side firmly with the dagger, and then he pried it out of Billy Hargrove for good.

“What the f - “ Billy finally spoke, lifting his head off the floor again. Dark blue eyes tracked the thing Steve took out of him before he finally gave in to unconsciousness.

“Get that covered,” Steve shouted over his shoulder, turned away from them all, and cut the slug to pieces on the floor of Starcourt Mall, “We should burn this just in case, anyone got a lighter?”

No one answered him with anything helpful, so Steve took it upon himself to turn back and reach into the front pocket of Billy's jeans where – of course – a zippo lay waiting.

“Jesus, El,” he spoke to himself, where the only remnants of the El he'd grown to love like a sister still remained, “If I had to come back to save Billy Hargrove just to get this damn lighter, I'm going to be _pissed_.”

He had enough time to make sure each piece of the slug was burning before an intimately familiar voice sternly addressed him.

“Are you one of them? From that lab downstairs?”

Steve let his eyes close slowly. If El hadn't said to teach her younger counterpart about the short cuts, he would have expected to stop existing by now, but the way it all was going meant that he was somehow going to be sticking around a little longer. Would he have to be careful about what he said? Buying himself some time to consider things, he reached up slowly to remove the scrub cap, rub a hand through his hair, and then started pulling the lab coat off as well. The thing was that the future he came from was over now, and would not ever exist the way it had if everything he did here in the past truly changed things, so what would it matter what he told them, since they were going to have better things in their future anyway?

He shook his head pushed off the ground, leaving the disguise he'd stolen from downstairs on the ground when as he stood and turned back towards them.

All of them were there now, his widening eyes noticed. How much time had it been since the Mind Flayer fell? How long had he sat there staring at the burning remains of that slug?

“I guess technically I came from downstairs?” Steve's head tilted slightly before he nodded, “From the gate though, not the lab.”

Steve Harrington, 19 years old and still in his damn uniform from that ice cream place where he worked this summer, stood in front of him, gaping.

Steve couldn't help but be a little jealous of the way his hair lifts with that one rebellious piece arched out over his forehead toward him tauntingly. He can't even remember the last time his hair was properly cared for. Young Steve Harrington was so _innocent_.

“Yeah, no,” Harrington said while he shook his head. A finger pulled at the collar of his sailor shirt, “Someone else needs to take the lead on this, because I think those Russian drugs are getting to me again.”

Steve grinned at himself, the act looking like it scared Harrington unintentionally.

“It's okay, Kid,” he said, and imagine calling a past version of yourself _that_ , “If you can believe all this monster shit than you can believe I'm here, too.”

It did nothing to reassure any of them, Steve thought as his gaze shifted from face to face. El scowled at him then, in a way that made him want to go over and ruffle her hair up if he thought he'd get away with it right now. He knows he wouldn't, so he stays still.

“Steve, who is this?” Robin asked, eyeing Steve while she talked to Harrington.

“How the fuck should I know?” Harrington burst, arms flailing. Had he always been so dramatic? “No one in my family looks this much like me. So...I mean, is he me?”

Robin blinked twice, slowly, and then shrugged.

“What do you mean, you came from the gate?” Nancy posed, ever the journalist. Steve ignored her for now and kept his eye on Harrington.

“You _were_ me,” he started slowly, not even sure he completely understood, “You were me until I came through the gate from the future. Now you're a new version of me. I am no longer your future.”

It was likely all of their brains were too scrambled from the fight to follow such logic, evident not only by how he felt thinking about what he'd just said, but also by the way most of them were staring at him. Might as well add to the chaos.

“That's the hope, anyway. That you won't have to become _this,_ ” his hands lifted slightly, palms up, in a small gesture that showed he meant that he was talking about himself in general.

“What the hell are you, anyway? An expert Monster Hunter?” Will piped up.

“What's this?” El dragged herself across the floor in order to pick up the jar, sniffing at the paste inside.

“But why are you still here? If you came through the gate and changed the future, why do you still exist?” Robin always was a sharp one.

“Don't touch that shit, El, seriously,” Steve stared down her distrustful gaze until she screwed the top back onto the jar, and then he tried to wrap his brain around Robin's questions, “I don't know. Maybe not enough has changed, yet. Maybe if I left now you'd still end up fighting the Upside Down for half of your life anyways. Plus I still need to show El how to – Oh. Shit. Oh _shit._ ”

See, that was the problem with leaving things to the last minute, because no details meant that Steve forgot until just then that Eleven had been absolutely powerless after this battle. Literally, for _years_. It was why they were all surprised when the government came to get her years later, but she certainly had them back and then some when she returned to Hawkins. When she was twenty.

She never told him how she'd gotten her powers back.

Which meant Steve was _screwed_.

“Oh shit _what_?” Mike shouted, and from the look on his face this wasn't the first time he'd said it. He was on the floor beside El, arms around her and glaring at him like he thought Steve was crazy for thinking he'd let anyone near her. The sight make it hard to breathe considering the brainwashed asshole older Mike had become the last time he'd seen him.

Steve shook his head, he'd elaborate later despite all their freaking out. He just...couldn't.

Max's voice had been getting progressively louder and frantic from where Lucas was trying to comfort her beside Billy.

“I don't care if he's breathing fine, he won't wake _up_ , Lucas, and that's _not normal_ ,” she had her hands on Billy's shoulders, giving them a periodic shake.

“He'll come around,” Steve told her confidently, shuffling towards them.

As if he was trying to prove Steve right, Billy's eyebrows furrowed while his head lolled toward Max. He groaned low in his throat before his eyelids cracked open.

“Max?” he breathed, blinking hard before staring at her intently, “Max, I'm sorry.”

Max let out a sob of relief before it turned into a dark huff of laughter.

“You should be. What are you thinking, passing out when I'm worried you might be dying?” she said, letting his shoulder go so that she could clutch at his hand. Billy's eyes shut tight and his head shook, hard enough for Max to prompt him, “What is it? What's wrong?”

“No, Max, I'm _sorry_ ,” he repeated. He needed her to understand, and it didn't sound like she was getting it. “I killed them. I killed so many of them. I couldn't – I didn't think I could stand up to him. Even before, even _before_ , Max, I've never been able to stand up to evil shitheads and I'm _sorry_ \- ”

“Billy!” Max cut him off, wide eyed and pale, “It's fine, okay? You wouldn't have killed those people, I know that. And like, you're alive, so you can make up for the other stuff, you know?”

His step-sister'ss words did nothing to soothe him, his wild eyes widened, breathing picking up.

“That _thing_ wanted me to kill everyone. _Everyone_. It wanted to kill _me_. I can't believe – what the hell was that thing in my – where's Harrington?” Billy spoke in a feverish half mumble as he hyperventilated, the blood loss and brain trauma leaving him loopy.

“Looking for me?” Steve stepped forward, waving Harrington off. Billy's red-rimmed gaze found him and locked on.

“What the hell was that shit you pulled?” His breaths heaved, watery eyes tracking the cindered remains of the slug.

“Not my first rodeo, Hargrove,” he replied, jittery.

Billy's gaze snapped back to him and intensified, and Steve didn't want to deal with the scrutiny of not being the Harrington Billy thought he was. The injured man's head started to shake.

“But you're not – how can you be - ”

“Can we get this guy to a hospital? What's the hold up, here? Hopper said he called someone before they took the elevator ride to hell, right?” Harrington stepped up, sending a glare towards Steve before moving to stop in front of him, his way of telling everyone to try and ignore him for now. Steve was proud of himself.

One more breath brought Joyce rushing in, bee-lining her way to Will first and then Jonathan, chattering the whole way. Steve tried not to look too much, only glancing under hooded eyelids while he finally cleaned off his blades and packed his backpack. Jonathan was helping Mike get El to her feet with Nancy close by, Will off to the side still tucked protectively under Joyce's arm.

“Jim?” El asked. Steve purposely didn't look up at Joyce, knowing the news she had yet to share with the others.

“Let's just get outside,” she said instead, soft but insistent, and El must have been in enough pain to drop it for now.

Harrington and Robin were arguing with Lucas and Max about moving Billy while the teen in question tried to breathe through his pain.

“It's not a spine injury, we've got pressure on the wound, and it'll hurt even if we wait to move him. Let's just get him away from the monster that managed to make him more of a jackass than he already was,” Steve stated to settle the matter. He stepped forward to help get him on his feet while he shrugged the backpack in place on his shoulders, and slowed in surprise at the silence that followed.

“Shut up,” Lucas told him, one hand on Max's shoulder as they both scowled at him.

“And back up,” Harrington added, pressing fingers to his shoulder to show that he meant it. His face was swollen enough from the interrogation to effect his expressions, and a chill went down Steve's spine at the realization that he had no idea what was going on in young Harrington's mind.

Arms dropping useless to his sides, Steve stayed where he was.

“Robin?” Harrington prompted as he crouched at Billy's side, and the girl shifted obediently. They sat him up slowly, and before long had him on his feet as best as he was going to be.

It was just as good, Steve thought as they struggled to move with Billy between them. He already saved the dude, that didn't mean he wanted anything more to do with him.

Joyce noticed him finally, her outburst more welcome than leaving him to awkwardly follow them out of the mall.

“I'm Steve Harrington from the future,” he explained wearily, “I came through a crack in the void in the Upside Down, led me straight to the gate downstairs.”

“ _What_?” Joyce was having none of it, but neither was Steve.

“Oh my God, you just fought a guy who was possessed by a monster from another dimension that made him kill people so that he could congeal their remains together to create a really gross physical form for himself in this reality,” Steve didn't care anymore, “this is not that unbelievable.”

“You stick with me,” Joyce's glare hit harder than any of the rest of them had, “We're talking to Dr. Owens as soon as he gets here.”

To think that he actually felt a bit relieved at the prospect of talking to Dr. Owens. The group had barely left the building when a convoy of vehicles turned into the parking lot and pulled up to the building. After getting Billy and El some medical attention, the questions started.

Owens had absolutely no interest in him until Steve raised his voice a bit and said; "How I got here stems from one of the research hypotheses of Project Wells."

Joyce zoned in immediately, and Steve knew there'd be an interrogation about that later. Owens stopped in the middle of arguing with some mid ranking military official, grabbed him by the elbow, and started marching them away from everyone else.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said while they were still within hearing of anyone. Joyce tried to follow but Owens waved her off. And then, "What the hell do you think you know about Project Wells?"

"I know it never goes anywhere. I know I'm never going to elaborate about how I got here because it doesn't matter anymore, that world ended in 2005," he told him, and glared at the way Owens' eyes were gleaming. _Scientists,_ "Snap out of it, Owens, the world ends and I'm here now trying to make sure that doesn't happen."

Owens clenched his teeth, Steve could see his muscles flex along his jaw as thought.

"How the hell can I trust that you are who you say you are."

Steve felt like screaming, but made do with taking a step back so that he had room to flail his arms a bit and press the heel of his hands to his eyes. Alright, so maybe he wasn't completely over the dramatics.

"I don't know, man. I know about Project Wells? I know about the Energy Rebound Commission? I know how many subjects are on the list and I know how many you find and I know how many die under your care and I know how many are left and escape with El on the day that you die, by the way, but what will make - " Steve stopped to take a breath, knowing he needed to slow down so that he wouldn't freak out completely. Owens already looked a little green around the gills at his outburst, but so far he hadn't rambled about anything concrete enough that would - oh, right. Steve licked at his lips and lowered his voice, "I know about your personal interest in subject four. I know you've been protecting him. I know you've been hiding him."

Owens turned from green to white, "How?"

Steve wasn't sure that his grin was as kind as he'd meant it to be.

"He told me," Steve waited a moment for that to sink in before he added the clincher, "He also told me how you would have named him 'Greg' if he hadn't been born into the program."

Owens had been young when he'd fallen in love with one of his subjects. He told Greg he had planned to escape with her once he found out she was pregnant, but was too afraid they would be killed if they tried to leave. The testing she was involved in eventually altered her brain, and Greg said he always knew Owens had never really meant to leave in the first place. He was kind of a piece of crap, but he was dedicated to the cause, at least.

"What do you want," Owens asked as a statement.

Steve shook his head.

"I want to be able to stay here and do my thing, no questions asked," he started with, "And I want you to tell me if you already know about the 'Department of Energy Research Divisions' in Russia. And South Korea. And Ireland."

Dr. Owens shook his head, eyebrows meeting in the middle, “Maybe rumours, but I would know if anything were - “

“Follow the trail of those rumours, doc, because there is absolutely stuff already happening. Jim Hopper didn't die when the gate went kaput tonight. The blast knocked him clear through to a lab in Russia, and you need to find him,” Steve ordered. He couldn't help the edge of desperation that crept into his tone, because now that he El didn't have powers and he couldn't teach her the short cuts he had no other ideas how to get Hopper back any sooner than the first time around. He needed Owens.

“And you want in on it?” Dr. Owens asked, wary, but Steve shook his head.

“I need to stay here and be left alone. I can take Hopper's position until you bring him back,” Steve knew he was pushing it with calling all the shots so blatantly, but considering how thrown off Owens was after being called out he figured this was his best chance to get what he wanted.

“I can start working on papers for you, but Hawkins needs a Chief of Police who knows what he's doing,” Dr. Owens tried to protest, but Steve – reaching into the side pocket on his backpack – was way ahead of him.

“Lucky for you, I've been working with Hopper for close to fifteen years now,” he grinned humourlessly, holding up his badge and Hawkins Police ID before offering it to Owens for a closer look, “Unfortunately I misplaced my department issued firearm on the other side of the gate.”

Dr. Owens said nothing for long enough to exhaust Steve's patience.

“Do you need to sit down for a minute?”

Dr. Owens shook his head and cleared his throat as he handed Steve's badge back, “'Steven Summers'?”

“Yep,” Steve nodded, and he had to take a breath to ease the tightening in his chest when his heart skipped a beat. Giving up 'Harrington' a few years ago was going to be a blessing and a curse, he thought, and ducked his head to avoid Owens' gaze, “You won't even have to come up with an alias for me.”

“You came into town with us tonight,” Dr. Owens told him carefully, and already Steve was breathing easier, “I'll have one of my men reserve a room for you at the Hawkins Motel and I'll make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon so you can meet with the Mayor. He'll know that you're Hawkin's temporary Chief of Police, that you're here to keep things in line and look into Hopper's disappearance. Does that satisfy?”

“As long as you keep me updated about the search for our friend, that'll do it,” Steve nodded, and then stuck out a hand to shake on the deal.

By the time Steve and Owens joined the rest of the group, Billy and Max had already left by ambulance to the hospital. El was crying on Mike's shoulder with Joyce's hand on her back, the woman trying to hide her own tears. The only reason they hadn't left for the hospital yet was that Joyce was waiting to talk to Owens.

“Sorry about the hold up,” Steve told her sincerely, stomach churning.

Owens filled her in on Steve's new role in town, and although her cheeks flushed and her suspicious glare seemed to track his every movement, she didn't contest it.

“Vouching for this one is on you,” she told Owens, her way of saying that while she might be going along with this, she wasn't going to take any responsibility if it turned out that Steve wasn't who he said he was, “I have too many other things to worry about.”

With that, she climbed into the back of the ambulance with Mike and El.

“You didn't tell her about Hopper,” Steve accused Owens as the ambulance pulled away.

“I wasn't sure it would be worth getting her hopes up just yet,” Dr. Owens replied, making Steve scowl.

“If you do your job right, you won't have to worry about that. I'm going to tell her,” Steve hissed, “And I'll leave it up to her whether she wants to tell the kids or not.”

Owens raised his hands briefly, palms out, and then started to turn away.

“I'll have one of my men bring you to the hospital, we'll go over the official story with everyone once we're there.”

It turned out to be some dull, bullshit cover story, but everyone is so exhausted that they sign their NDAs as soon as they can retell their part of the story without stumbling.

Throughout all of it Steve still hasn't found even one specific word or two for Harrington. Honestly, there was still a part of him not totally convinced he wasn't just dreaming this all up.

He stepped into Billy's room, eyes on Max, Lucas, and Joyce for a moment as Max tried to argue her way into staying with Billy for the night. They spared him a brief glance before ignoring him once more. Steve was fine with that, satisfied enough to see clean sheets tucking Billy into the hospital bed. He had an IV drip running into his forearm, and looked like he was actually sleeping easily, no painful grimacing to crease his forehead. For not the first time he wondered how the hell El expected keeping Billy Hargrove alive would save the world.

He backed out of the room with a frown and shuffled down the hall toward the bay that had been assigned to El.

“All set?” Steve asked. El looked up from where she was perched, sitting at the side of a stretcher. Although she was flanked by Mike and Will, there had been no talking for him to interrupt.

El lifted her foot to show off her bandaged lower leg. It was no reason to keep her overnight , they were all likely just waiting for Joyce to bring them home now.

“Looks like they did a nice job,” Steve commented, eyeing the dressing critically and at a total loss of what to say. El eyed him sharply, that frustrated dimple showing on her forehead only a few seconds later. Steve wonders if she'd been trying to get some sort of read on him, and was frustrated that she didn't seem to have her powers back yet. He felt sick at the prospect that they might never come back – maybe that was something he'd have to buckle down and ask Owens about later.

“Are you going to need help getting down to the car?” Steve ended up asking, hopefully. 

“No, we're not,” Mike answered, distrustful. It was the first time since coming through the gate that he felt truly useless and unwanted.

Steve nodded once, “Alright. Well, I'll check in with you tomorrow.”

He didn't get even so much as a goodbye.

First thing he did when he finally made it to the motel was to strip down and step into the shower. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he let the beads of water hit at the back of his neck until the water temperature went from one scalding extreme to the other. Steve stared dully at himself in the mirror, wrapping the towel around him after drying himself off. Once it became apparent that it would be hard to get any sleep tonight, Steve fell face first onto the bed.

Everything was too quiet now, and Steve was alone. Even surrounded by all of these familiar faces – some of whom had been dead for years now from his own time – he was always going to be alone from now on, wasn't he? He didn't end up sleeping until the crying depleted whatever energy he had left over.


	3. Still Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything outside of Billy was too bright, too loud, and too fast. Everything inside of him felt...like nothing he could remember. Living with the Mind Flayer latched to his brain and imprinted onto his soul made it so hard to be himself. Every movement that was his, everything thought that belonged to Billy alone, had to be dragged through to the surface akin to walking through sludge with your feet getting caught each step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Parental abuse, some depressive and suicidal thoughts, swearing. Billy is not in a happy place right now. 
> 
> Thank you for even giving this story a chance!

[billy, 18]

Everything outside of Billy was too bright, too loud, and too fast. Everything inside of him felt...like nothing he could remember. Living with the Mind Flayer latched to his brain and imprinted onto his soul made it so hard to be himself. Every movement that was his, everything thought that belonged to Billy alone, had to be dragged through to the surface akin to walking through sludge with your feet getting caught each step of the way.

So when it was suddenly gone the pain took over tenfold. There was a rush to saying things that were his, sharing what he felt, apologies and regret poured out with relieved abandon.

It was all overwhelming.

Later in the hospital, when he was patched up and had about six hours of bone weary sleep, Billy woke up to discover the dark side of surviving. Memories. He could remember every single atrocity he committed. Mind Flayer or not, Billy's hands were stained with blood. He could see it, he could smell it, even, and within minutes of true consciousness the constricting weight of guilt had him panicked enough that he couldn't breathe, he couldn't catch his breath, and not long after he had to be held down and sedated.

When he woke up in the morning there was Neil standing at the foot of his bed, hands on his hips. He looked as if he was disappointed Billy hadn't greeted him with a welcome party as soon as he got here. Billy shut his eyes again to a mirage of the terrified expressions of his victims, and wished the Mind Flayer had just taken him as well.

"They said you woke up last night thinking you were still in the fire," Neil said, all judgment, "You still seeing things?"

Billy couldn't think, didn't know the right answer to that, and when he realized he was taking too long to answer he merely shook his head.

How pathetic was this? Billy guessed it made sense though, for a piece of shit like him to end up surviving the possession of some otherworldly hell monster only to be finished off by his arguable bigger piece of shit Dad.

He knew he needed to keep his eyes open to pretend he was paying attention, but it was easy to slip into a disinterested trance. Neil rambled, getting closer and voice dropping the longer he talked. Billy wondered how long it would take for Neil to feign an interest in checking that the dressing on his side was in good shape, only to press at the covered wound hard enough to be satisfied once it was obvious he was causing some pain. Neil would let one corner of his mouth turn up, like he wanted Billy to know that he enjoyed controlling the pain he caused.

Billy _hated_ that smile. It was why – whether he was being a dick or not – he either smiled widely, or not at all.

“ - because if you think I'll be forking out the money for you to enjoy another night here in the deluxe suite, you've - “

Neil took another step closer, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes now. Billy wished he knew it would help if he said that he'd pay, except his Dad thought he'd been blowing the money he'd been making at the pool. Hoping to be able to move out as soon as possible, the truth was that Billy had been quietly saving every penny he could manage. 

Two short raps on his hospital room door was the only warning they got before it swung open. Neil stopped short in the middle of whatever thing he'd been bitching about, and Billy, hoping it was the nurse with more pain medication, forced his heavy eyelids open again.

It wasn't the nurse.

In full Hawkins Police uniform with his hat clutched in one hand, was the weird, aged version of Harrington he had hallucinated at the mall the night before. Squeezing his eyes shut to reset his brain, Billy opened them to the disappointment that it had done nothing to shake the vision. The deputy was looking at him oddly before his gaze shifted to Neil, and Billy merely shut his eyes again.

This couldn't mean anything good.

“Can I help you, Officer...” Neil trailed off.

“Summers,” the deputy's voice even sounded something like Harrington's, and it felt purposeful when Billy looked over and noted that he didn't offer Neil a hand to shake, “I'm just here to see how Billy's doing. Are you well enough for a visitor?”

Summers wasn't even looking at Neil anymore, instead eyeing Billy in a way that felt like he was asking more than what he'd said. Shifting in the bed, Billy tried to find a way to say that he didn't want to have to talk to someone while he was hallucinating their face, but Neil had an answer ready before he could figure out how.

“My boy's never had any friends on the force,” Neil said, and Summers' jaw clenched. Interesting.

“I'm not here because I'm his friend,” Summers stated plainly as he reached over to push the door to the room open again, “I'm escorting the girl Billy saved last night. She wanted to thank him in person.”

The words hit him like a kick to the stomach, and it took a moment to remember how to breathe in again.

“Yeah, that's - ” Billy cleared his throat, staring hard at the doorway as a girl hobbled in with a crutch tucked under a shoulder.

“Billy,” she stated her greeting, sparing barely a glance for his Dad.

“Hi,” Billy managed, wide-eyed and head pounding, “You're...upright.”

She didn't laugh, but it looked like it was a close thing. Unsure what to expect and hardly able to think straight, Billy kept his expression guarded even as he maintained eye contact with her. This girl was as much a stranger to him as she was intimately familiar with his dearest memories.

“Can I sit?” Curly asked, eyes on him before shifting to Deputy Summers.

The policeman nodded and moved to pick up the chair Neil had ignored, placing it at Billy's bedside. The girl thanked him and then shuffled forward to perch on the edge of the chair. Billy watched as she leaned her crutch against his bed.

“Why don't we give the kids a minute to talk?” Summers asked. The way he stood pointedly holding the door open made it clear that he was telling Neil to get out of the room. It took his Dad another moment to catch on, and all he did when he finally understood was mutter something under his breath and storm out of the room. Summers offered one more tip that was obviously meant for Billy before he stepped out of the room;

“Be nice, okay?”

A memory hit him the moment the door closed behind Summers. He was holding her down while she cried, terrified. She struggled to move, struggled to breathe as he gripped her throat, the soft flesh giving easily. The Mind Flayer might have had control of him in that moment, but the monster's taste for it had spilled over, there was nauseating power in the domination of human fragility, addictive in a way that only something that you know will ruin you can be.

Any curiosity he had about her cowered to guilt. His expression darkened with sudden anger, anyone who felt they could trust him enough to be alone with him after all he did was out of their mind.

“What do you want?”

Curly didn't say much, barely even shrugged. Billy squeezed one hand around the call bell, trying to avoid crossing his arms and taking solace in knowing that he could get a nurse in here quickly if he couldn't take it any more. Once glance showed him exactly where the bruise marks around her neck were waiting to mock him. His hands burned and his stomach flipped.

“I'm not going to apologize again,” he told her. Even if he was sorry, he didn't think he could spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it.

Curly's head shook. “Not here for apology.” And then, “You remember last night?”

“It's...foggy. From the pain, but – I think so,” he rumbled, voice scratchy.

“I could feel what you felt, on the beach,” she told him, and Billy heaved a sigh, head falling back to his pillow, “And after, when you came back. When you stopped it.”

His eyes burned when he finally met her gaze. She didn't appear to be judging him, afraid of him, or feeling sorry for him, she was just...looking at him.

“I already know. You don't owe me anything. Maybe just try to be nicer to my friend, okay? Before, Max said you're really big - “ she paused for a moment, as if she had to prepare herself to continue, “ - asshole?”

He didn't understand. His heart raced, his eyes watered as he stared, but no amount of repeating her words in his head helped him to understand any better. The girl frowned, leaned forward, and raised her voice a little.

“Be a smaller asshole, Billy,” she ordered sternly, and finally he gave a short, wet laugh.

“You're crazy,” he replied, his way of warning her that it was wrong to be letting him off the hook.

“Yes,” she nodded, too serious, “Less, now. My name is Jane.”

Billy had always been the sort to laugh at the most inappropriate times. This time the urge was lost to how important this moment felt. He nodded once.

“I can't make any promises, Jane,” he croaked shakily, “But, I'll try.”

“Good,” Jame nodded, quiet for a minute before she had something else to add, “Don't have to be someone just because you think you have to.”

Suddenly it was too much, and Billy couldn't look her in the eye anymore. The moment dragged on, and he raced to find something to say before she could hit any more of his weak spots. His entire chest throbbed, but he ignored it for now.

“Was Summers really there last night?” he blurted, curiosity winning out in his desperate search for a topic. Jane's eyes widened.

“Steve? Yes.”

“No,” Billy shook his head, “Not Harrington. This guy, Deputy Summers.”

Jane's sudden grim expression weighed like a rock in his stomach.

“Steve Harrington came through the gate from the future. He pulled that Mind Flayer baby out of your chest. He goes by Steve Summers now. He says Hopper isn't dead, just lost,” Jane stated plainly, but understanding it was another story. Billy almost instinctively accused her of fucking with him before it hit him that she said something about Hopper being dead.

“That's fucked,” is what came out in the end. Jane looked vaguely disapproving but didn't comment. How could she when she looked that damn sad? He felt like shit and he had no idea what to say, so he kept quiet and let his gaze drift toward the window.

“You know who made the first tear into the Upside Down?” Jane's question made no sense, and she elaborated without any prompting, “Made it possible for them to think they could control a gate? Me. My fault. All of those deaths. My fault.”

Billy didn't know what to say to that, either. All he could manage to do was look at her without pity, and that seemed enough for Jane.

“So, yeah,” Jane sighed, “Fucked.”

When Summers - or future Steve or whoever the hell he was - popped his head back into the room, they might have been smiling at each other. Just a little.

That afternoon after he'd had lunch, they changed the bandage at his side and made sure there still weren't any signs of infection. They handed him a list of prescriptions and told him to go home and take it easy. Billy had refused when they'd offered to call his Dad, telling them he'd made other arrangements to get home. He hadn't, but there was a Hawkins police cruiser sitting out front of the hospital anyway.

“Need a ride, Hargrove?” Summers asked, looking like he knew the answer already, “Free of charge.”

Billy hadn't taken more than maybe thirty steps on his own and his side was already killing him, his breathing heavy and forehead damp from the effort. Still.

“Nothing's free in this world,” he replied suspiciously.

“Well, I wouldn't say no to a little conversation,” Summers drawled, eyebrows drawn together pointedly. He knew exactly what sort of conversation he wanted to have with Billy.

Two could play at that game. Billy reached a hand out to the top of the cruiser by Summers' open window and leaned.

“We're going to stop somewhere you can buy me two packs of cigarettes,” he said, final offer, and the dark smile on his lips never reached his eyes.

“Get in before I change my mind,” Summers grumbled.

Although it was such a small thing, Billy felt like he'd taken some control back. By the time he had slid into the passenger's seat and shut the door closed, his smile had twisted into a smirk.

“So, Deputy Su - “

“Chief, actually,” Summers corrected, and Billy's eyebrows narrowed in his direction. How the hell had he pulled that off? The man continued before he could ask about it, “Temporarily. Until Hopper gets back.”

“Where you from?” Billy finally finished his intended question rather cheerily. He figured his best bet was to deal with this guy the way he dealt with most adults who weren't his meathead father – charm their socks off.

“El told me she briefed you about me,” Summers frowned, glancing over as he turned the key over in the ignition and the engine sputtered to life

“El?”

“Yeah, El,” Summers lifted an eyebrow, “Jane?”

“Oh. That's a weird nickname for 'Jane',” Billy observed.

“Did she or did she not tell you my origin story?” Summers prompted, having none of the small talk. He was making it really hard to keep up the charm.

“Considering the circumstances, it's pretty shitty of you to convince the kids you're from the future,” Billy stated, forcing a chuckle, “Funny as hell, but kinda cruel.”

He should know, he thought to himself, since he was basically a staple preteen's villain at this point. Summers merely sighed, frustrated.

“You didn't believe her,” Summers recognized, “Shit. You're going to make it difficult every step of the way, aren't you?”

After pulling out of the parking spot, Summers spared him a look of disgust before he punched at the gas pedal. Fuck, but trying to stay upright when his ribs were ripped to shit and there was a maniac in the driver's seat was a nightmare.

“Is there anywhere else I can bring you rather than to your parents'?” Summers asked, after mumbling under his breath.

“What?” Billy frowned, “Just bring me home, Officer.”

“Does your Dad hold back while you're healing?” Summers asked plainly, the question settling heavily into the air around them.

“What the _fuck_?” He breathed, all attempts to put on any sort of held together facade fading.

“I know he's a dirt bag and I know he hits you, okay? Just...try to get over it, because we need to make arrangements to get you out of there so that - ”

Panicked and half convinced he had somehow started hallucinating again along the way, Billy laughed darkly, “I don't know what the hell you think you heard, but - ”

“Give it up, Billy. I _know_ , okay?” Summers wouldn't budge, knuckles white where they clutched the steering wheel. “The first time around, Neil blamed Max for your death and it took all of us way too long to notice that he'd started on her. I still don't get why either of you would put up with that and let him get away with being an absolute shithole.”

“He's never put his grubby hands on Max, I've made sure of it,” Billy growled, one hand bracing his side, the other squeezing hard at his thigh. The guy was just unbelievable.

“Yeah, well, apparently when you died he made up for lost time,” Summers just wasn't letting up.

“Why do you keep goddamn saying I died?” Billy pressed, barely able to catch his breath.

“God, did they check you for brain damage while you were in there?” Summers drawled, and then his tone sharpened, “That thing you just survived killed you, originally. I was sent back to this time in order to make sure you stayed alive.”

“Oh, I get it,” Billy sucked in a breath, ears ringing in confused anger, “You think I'm in your debt or some shit, now.”

“It's not that,” Summers said, even though his expression suggested he thought that was part of it even if he wasn't admitting it, “But there's gotta be – I mean, you've got to do _something_ to make it all worth it. Why the hell else would you living be the only big change in helping to defeat the Upside Down?”

Billy could feel himself shake. This Summers guy was certifiably insane. And Billy? Billy didn't do well with expectations because in his experience they were put in place knowing that he'd fail. An excuse to show how much of a useless piece of shit he was. It hurt to breathe, but it would hurt more to buckle to Summers' power trip.

“Should have just listened to your gut and let that thing skewer me,” he grovelled, upper lip curling, “I didn't ask you to distract it, and just because you did doesn't make me your _pet._ ”

“That's not what - “

“Just bring me home.”

“Will you just _listen_ \- ”

“Forget the smokes and drive me home, Summers,” Billy told him, hoping to God he would listen because he thought he might actually spontaneously combust if he didn't. He could feel himself shaking all the way down to his bones, and couldn't even tell at that point if it was because of the pain or because of all the shit Summers was so insistent about. Staring unblinkingly ahead was the only way he managed the rest of the quiet ride to his house, his eyes stung enough to distract himself until the car slowed and he could finally climb out.

Three hours later there was a knock at his bedroom door.

“It's me,” he could recognize Max's muffled voice through the thin wooden door, “Can I come in?”

Billy grunted without moving. He had managed to turn some music on when he'd first gotten home, but hadn't even shifted from where he'd flopped onto his back on the bed. He tracked Max's movement without lifting his head, glad that she came close enough so that he could see her face without straining his neck.

“These were in the mailbox with your name on them,” Max held up two packs of cigarettes, “Who do you think - ”

“Don't want 'em,” he lied, gaze shifting back to the ceiling. If Chief Summers left them as a peace offering, he didn't want him to think he accepted.

“Dad called an hour ago and asked if you were home yet,” Max continued, not meeting his eyes, “he wanted you to have dinner ready when he came home.”

Billy closed his eyes, jaw clenching.

“I've got a pasta casserole in the oven. I'll set the table in a minute. Do you think you can make it out there in a half an hour to eat with us?” Max asked.

“I'm not a charity case,” Billy replied, unable to reconcile this side of Max when he'd spent so long being a bastard to her and her friends.

“You also probably shouldn't even be home from the hospital yet,” Max rolled her eyes, set the cigarettes on his dresser, and turned away, “Stop being an asshole when I'm just being a decent person.”

Shit, Billy hated this. Not only was it pathetic to feel this indebted to so many fucking preteens, but he was far too useless to even start trying to make up for any of his jackassery. But he was stuck here, immobile on his bed and scowling at the ceiling, and that was worse than any of it, wasn't it? Max was a tough kid, and he'd just promised Jane that -

“Hey,” he called, eyes shut tight. Figuring that Max was still there since he hadn't heard the telltale click of his door shutting, Billy continued on in an attempt to ease the suffocating feeling of owing someone, “You're a good kid.”

Silence. And then;

“Not a kid anymore,” Max replied, the statement holding more sorrow than indigence, “Your prescriptions were filled and left in the mailbox, too. I'll bring you a pill and some water.”

Billy grunted in acknowledgement, heart hammering. He was unable to pinpoint how he felt any more, and had even less of an idea how he was supposed to be feeling. The only thing he did know was that it was necessary to keep repeating to himself until he believed it that it was okay to be grateful, because he was grateful. Maybe not to be alive, not yet.

But for Max not giving up on him, that was pretty cool of her.


	4. Talking To Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mean, he's you,” Dustin started, “What do you think about him? What kind of vibes does he give you?”
> 
> Steve stared, slack-jawed. Were they honestly expecting him to be their best resource on some lunatic who said he was from the future and just happened to look like him?
> 
> “Newsflash, nerds,” Steve could feel himself getting flaily, “I've never been to the future, and that dude hasn't said a single word to me since he got here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Hyperventilating, mild panic attack.
> 
> I'm almost 100% sure that this is the last POV we'll be alternating between for the duration of the story. Do you think it's been working so far? 
> 
> Thank you and Enjoy!

[steve, 19]

Steve hadn't bothered to let his parents know anything had happened. It wasn't like he could anyway, considering his official cover story was basically that nothing had happened. They'd asked if his parents would believe he had gotten in a fight at a party or something, and considering that was exactly the story he told them the last couple of times he'd been beaten up, that became the extent of his fabrication. The mall burning down the same night? Coincidental. He would have called them back from vacation and they would have come home and just looked at him oddly for maybe a week before leaving again.

“I'd have thought you might be glad not to have to wear that uniform again,” his Dad might have said.

“Too bad that wasn't burned in the fire, too,” his Mom would have added, twittering.

No, Steve didn't even want to give them the chance to not give him the support he needed, especially when they had no clue what had really happened.

Which meant that in the days following the big showdown and the surprise introduction of who was apparently trying to pass as a version of himself from the future, Steve spent some time with Dustin, Jonathan, and Nancy, and a lot of time with Robin.

“Have fun, Robbie,” her Mom called from the front porch while Robin jogged to his car, fresh from the shop, maybe a week after the incident.

The teen rolled her eyes, and after she climbed into the passenger seat Steve joined her in giving a wave through the front window towards her Mom.

“Did I tell you she's convinced you're my boyfriend?” Robin informed him as he backed out of her driveway.

Eyebrows meeting his hairline, Steve grinned, “Oh yeah? I thought you told her you were into girls last summer?”

“Oh, I did,” Robin nodded, “She's been in complete denial ever since.”

Steve tutted, sending her a look that clearly meant that he was sorry about her luck.

“It's all good, Harrington,” Robin grinned his way, Steve could feel her eyes watching him while he drove, “Of all the dopes in Hawkins she could mistakenly think I'm dating, I'm glad it's you.”

“Thanks, I think,” Steve replied, unsure if he was meant to accept that with anything other than amusement.

Thankful enough that all the shit over the last couple weeks hadn't scared her away, Steve didn't even attempt to call dibs on the music when she happily set to work fiddling with the car radio until it landed on something she liked.

“Well? How went the battle to sleep last night?” she asked lightly.

Steve shrugged.

“That good, huh?”

“I'm trying to stay optimistic,” he replied easily, “I mean, my body needs sleep to function so one of these nights I should keel over and a get a good few hours in a row, right?”

Although focused on the road ahead, Steve could feel Robin giving him a _look_ , and ignored when she quietly asked if he should even be driving. Honestly? It was a good question. So long as he could drive straight and no one noticed that he'd used some of his Mom's concealer on the bags under his eyes, he could deal with being so cavalier about the little amount of sleep he was getting.

It was the nightmares he didn't want to admit to.

“You?” Steve purposely shifted focus back to Robin before she could try to psychoanalyze his lack of sleep.

“I've slept better,” she admitted vaguely, “My offer still stands, you know. You can sleep over any time you need to. My Mom might be a little scandalized considering her assumptions, but honestly I think she'd mostly just be relieved that you're male.”

Steve huffed a short laugh.

“Hey doofus, you just missed your turn,” Robin pointed out as they went straight through an intersection.

“That's because we're taking a detour to pick up Max and Billy,” Steve was glad to have the road in front of him to focus on.

“Seriously?” Robin clarified, and Steve nodded.

Max was waiting on the porch when Steve stopped the car a the curb in front of their house. The teen ducked back into the house and when the front door opened again she was ushering Billy out in front of her. The shirt he wore didn't have even a single button done up, which was dumb considering the way he was holding it closed with one hand in order to hide the bandage on his side. Steve was glad to note that Robin watched too while they came down the front stairs and crossed the lawn towards them. He stopped looking when he realized he was staring at the way Billy's hair was tied back, low behind his neck.

“Just get in the car, kid,” Billy scowled when Max tried to hold the back car door open for him to climb in.

She listened with a huff, climbing through to the far side of the back seat. It took Billy a few seconds longer to get in, and Steve peered into the rear view mirror to watch them once all the doors were shut. “Everyone got their seat belts?”

Billy caught his eye and stared back in the mirror while Robin and Max chorused a practised; “Yes, Mom.”

When it became evident no one was going to say anything, Steve reached over and turned the radio up for the rest of the drive to the Wheelers'.

There was pizza waiting in the Wheelers' kitchen when they got there, and Steve could hear Billy complaining about the number of stairs when he started the trek to the basement. Exchanging loving insults with Dustin as he filled a plate with some pizza, he noticed Max piling up two plates – obviously setting her step-brother up with some food. Without comment, Steve grabbed an extra soda and followed her down into the basement.

Billy didn't thank either of them, and actually, Steve thought his scowl intensified the closer they were to each other. Retreating to sit on the floor on the other side of the room from him, Steve told himself he was just going to ignore him altogether.

“Alright,” Steve called when he was halfway through his second slice of pizza, “Can we call this nerd meeting to order, or what?”

The group of them had been loitering around the basement in clumps, catching up with whoever they hadn't seen or spoken to since the incident. Nancy and Jonathan ended up settling down near him while Robin had ended up migrating towards Dustin when he started a swift but friendly argument with Will, Lucas, and Max about whether or not jump scares were creepier than suspense. Mike and El had been hugging for the last five minutes, and Billy – well, he had taken one bite of his pizza, stopped when he looked like he was going to hurl, and now had his head against the back of the couch like he was trying his best to sink completely into it and disappear forever.

Steve's attempt to call to order went over as well as expected, enough of the kids turned on him in immediate and fond outrage while Nancy hid her smile in Jonathan's shoulder.

“You've got two minutes before I make King Steve bring me home,” Billy's tired voice drawled from the couch cushions.

Steve glared, suddenly hating how effortlessly Billy could take control of something, even when he was only just healing and clearly the most vulnerable among them.

“If you don't want to be here, I'll gladly drive you home now. Why wait?” Steve's stomach dropped, but he'd been so annoyed that he hadn't been able to keep quiet.

“Shut up, Steve,” Dustin warned, lunging toward him to put both hands on his shoulders in order to keep him from trying to go anywhere.

“I'm only here because Max asked real nicely,” Billy's head popped off the couch, his lips stretching into that wide, shiny smile that didn't reach his eyes, “But if you want to take me home, Harrington, I'm ready any time.”

“Will you shut up?” Max had turned toward Billy when she spoke, but shifted a pointed glance in Steve's direction as well, “They want to talk about Summers.”

Almost everyone in the room refocused on Steve momentarily before rethinking things and purposely looking away again. If Steve hadn't been annoyed already, he might have found their synchronized awkwardness funny.

“And?” He prompted, running a hand through his hair, “Why are you all looking at me?”

Lucas nudged Dustin, who swatted at his arm without looking.

“I mean, he's you,” Dustin started, “What do you think about him? What kind of vibes does he give you?”

Steve stared, slack-jawed. Were they honestly expecting him to be their best resource on some lunatic who said he was from the future and just happened to look like him?

“Newsflash, nerds,” Steve could feel himself getting flaily, “I've never been to the future, and that dude hasn't said a single word to me since he got here.”

That earned some silence from the room, leaving Steve to take an angry bite of pizza just to have something to do. Billy was the first one to eye him disbelievingly, or maybe he was the only one to be so blatant about it.

“Interesting,” Robin mused.

“Nope. Stop right now,” Steve spoke as sternly as he could with a mouthful of pizza. Robing was free to muse about what that might mean on a deeper level, but Steve wasn't interested in her playing therapist vocally in front of so many people. Thankfully she listened, and Steve was left to wallow in the feeling that he was some sort of cosmic joke. It was bad enough not knowing what he wanted to do with his life, but to add some PTSD and a future version of himself who wanted nothing to do with him was downright unfair.

Someone, somewhere, was picking on him.

“So, is that it?” Steve had to jog the silence again as he reached for his drink, “Meeting adjourned?”

“He's been around our place a lot,” Will offered finally, and El nodded to back him up, “He's talked to Mom, but she won't tell us much. Just that we can trust him, and he'll open up when he's ready.”

“He said I lost my powers the first time around, too,” El volunteered, thinking hard and leaning a shoulder into Mike's chest as she spoke, “But wouldn't tell me when I'd recover.”

Steve saw Nancy and Jonathan share a look while Mike rubbed at Jane's back reassuringly, and wondered if that meant she'd lost them for good.

“They like him down at the station,” Jonathan lifted his head, “Nance and I are doing a little introductory piece for the paper.”

“His official backstory is appropriately vague and bland,” Nancy reported, “He's a compelling and believable Chief of Police.”

This was just depressing, the way it sounded like he wasn't having any trouble taking Hopper's place.

“He still swears Hopper's not dead,” Jane offered.

The silence shifted intently, an unannounced but obvious moment of silence given to honour Jim Hopper.

“He's been by ours almost every day,” Max volunteered, and that certainly got everyone's attention.

“Jesus, Max, he has not,” Billy scowled, and Steve wondered if he was aware that he'd tugged idly at one of the throw pillows on the couch beside him so that he was hugging it to his chest.

“I've been telling him to leave because I know you don't want to see him, but he always says he'll try again tomorrow,” Max flipped her long hair over her shoulder, “He wants to talk with you pretty badly, Billy.”

Billy just threw an arm over his eyes and shuffled his hips in order to sink further into the couch.

“He drove Billy home from the hospital,” Max continued, and Billy grumbled low in his throat in complaint.

“He's got an unhealthy obsession,” Billy said finally, lifting his head until his eyes locked on Steve's, “What do you think, Harrington? Anything I should be worried about?”

Steve huffed, ears going red at the implication.

“Any idea why he's got the hots for you?” Mike asked, the question making Steve want to throw his last piece of pizza at his head.

“He said I died the first time around,” Billy said, glaring straight ahead.

Steve wasn't the only on staring openly at Billy while he dragged a searching, sneering gaze around the room, but he felt like the only one Billy might be expecting an explanation from.

“Told me he came back to save my life. Maybe he's hanging around hoping I'll show him how _grateful_  
I am,” Billy's tone was sarcastic and biting, like he was waiting for any one of them to voice how ridiculous it was that anyone would come back to save him.

Steve swallowed a shameful thought that it would have made more sense to rescue Hopper. Even if Summers was right that the Chief was still alive, who knew how long it was going to take to get him back, and what might be happening to him in the meantime. His gaze dropped to his plate of pizza, but his ears burned as if someone were staring at him. The pressure of unspoken words was palpable in the room until finally one person chased away the tension with one honest sentence.

“I'm glad you're alive, Billy.”

Steve looked up to see that Jane had taken a step away from Mike and had her intense look focused on Billy now. The teen in question had gone red along his neck and in his eyes. The muscles in his jaw worked to keep his teeth clenched shut, but he did reply by giving a single nod to acknowledge Jane. One nod, and then he gulped and leaned his head back against the couch again.

“Alright, that's enough for one day,” he breathed, “Bring me home now, Harrington.”

The night wasn't over for most of them, so Max stayed when Steve promised that he was coming back after the quick trip to bring Billy home. They made it into the car and halfway to his house before Steve's curiosity got the better of him.

“What did he – Did he say _why_ he saved you?” Steve reflexively readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, feeling like a jackass before he finished asking the question.

Billy kept his focus out the passenger window, where he flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette before he took another drag and didn't show any sign of acknowledgement at all. Not surprised, Steve tried a different approach.

“Did he mention anything else about the future?”

“Just that I wasn't in it,” Billy drawled, and okay, Steve deserved that.

“Did he decide you needed to be alive, though, or did someone tell him?"

“Goddamn, Harrington,” Billy finally looked at him, brow heavy and eyes clouded, “Is it reassuring to know that you won't grow out of this annoying urge to be such a bitchy nag?”

Steve wanted to argue that it was more annoying that he didn't seem to be interested or invested in any of this at all, but he was too busy being pissed off at the implication that Billy knew both versions of Steve well enough to compare.

“You've got to be curious - ”

“Listen, asshole,” Billy took one last, long drag of the cigarette before tossing the rest out of the window, “I have no fucking clue what's going on. I deserved to die, and _you_ fucked that up. I'm going to try to be decent to Max and her friends, but beyond that I don't owe you anything. Go have a chat with yourself if you have questions about the future, because I don't give a shit.”

Steve pulled to a screeching stop at the curb in front of Billy's house just in time for him to finish. He threw the car into park so that he could take his hands off the steering wheel, but Billy was getting up and out of the car in record time considering how much pain he must be in from all the moving around in the last couple of hours.

“Summers and I are _not_ the same person!” Steve ended up shouting out of the window after Billy. Petty as it was, it felt good to get the last word in even if Billy ended up turning around before disappearing into his house and waving a middle finger farewell. He left, cursing under his breath.

The rest of the night happened all around him, with Steve mostly in his head formulating a plan he put into motion the very next morning.

After rolling out of bed and getting into the shower at a decent time, Steve was able to be on the road by nine, which meant it was only five minutes later that he was parking in a spot at the Hawkins Police Station.

“Do you have an appointment?” Leandra, the secretary, asked, and he did that thing where he purposely looked down while he removed his sunglasses so that when he looked up again his hair had fallen over his forehead into his eyes just so.

“Honestly, I was just hoping he might have a minute or two to talk,” he let himself sound sheepish, which paid off when she held up one finger and then disappeared down the hallway into the Chief's office.

It took half a second before she was on her way back toward him, shaking her head. “I'm sorry, but he's not in yet for the day. Would you like to set up an appointment, or wait? Chief Summers has been sort of making up his own schedule, but he's usually here within the hour.”

Steve thought for a moment and then said he would call back later.

“Thank you,” he grinned, and she smiled in return.

What a waste.

He told himself it wasn't rejection, and stopped down the street at the grocery store to pick some things up before heading home. There was a post card from his parents waiting in the mailbox when he got there, attached to a couple of brochures for whatever post-secondary schools were near to where they were vacationing at the moment. With a sigh, Steve tore up the brochures and threw them out, tacked the postcard to the fridge, and but the food away.

Five minutes into flicking through channels on the TV, the teen huffed and switched to music instead. Two and half songs in allowed restlessness to seep into his muscles, and Steve knew he couldn't stay in his house alone any longer.

He called Dustin and was on his way out the door when he was startled by a figure hovering on his porch.

“Augh!” He shrieked, brandishing his keys in front of him before recognizing Summers. He sagged, unimpressed, “What the _hell._ You couldn't have called first? Or knocked? Do they not have _knocking_ in the future?”

Summers looked he was trying not to smile, and as Steve willed his heart rate to calm down.

“Can I come in?” the Chief asked.

“Be my guest,” Steve stepped aside, brandishing an arm out.

One quick phone call later to let Dustin know he was going to be a while found Steve Harrington and Steve Summers sitting across from each other at the dining room table. Steve's hair shone while Summers' was greying, the former's face holding on to fading bruises, although the initial swelling had gone down quite a bit, while the latter had an array of scars and age lines that held stories of their own.

Steve opened his mouth to say something but cleared his throat and shut it again, a part of him still worried that one or either or both of them might begin to spontaneously combust if they interacted too much. His eyes narrowed, wondering if his older self was worried about the same thing. Summers raised an eyebrow and Steve pressed his lips together harder.

“What the hell, man?” He dove right in once he found the courage, “Were you really never going to talk to me?”

Summers gave a lengthy exhale, “No, I just didn't know how to...say hello, I guess.”

“Okay, well, greeting or not, this was always going to be weird. This is weird, dude,” Steve informed him, and it felt groundbreaking to say something so obvious out loud.

“Yeah, I got that,” Summers ran a hand through his hair, and Steve resisted the urge to do the same.

“So, what the hell is going on?” Steve pressed.

“I don't know! I'm just trying to keep things going and hoping Owens is close to getting Hopper back. Do you even know how many calls I get a day about what happened to the mall? Everyone is so damn suspicious,” he complained, and Steve had so many questions he had to shake his head to sort through them.

“Owens knows where Hopper is?” Steve clarified, eyes wide.

“Says he does. I'm lucky he believed me at all, wouldn't have been able to get Hopper back from Russia on my own,” Summers leaned forward, weight settling on his elbows on the table.

Steve's mind was reeling, “Hopper's in Russia?”

“Yeah, the force of the blast pushed him through the gate,” Summers explained, “And once he gets back I can focus and trying to figure out how to help El get her powers back.”

It was probably a good thing that Summers was sharing things with him so easily, and even though Steve had been hoping for such candidness, it turned out that he hadn't prepared for it properly.

“Okay, okay, just...” Steve had both hands up in the air, palms out to face Summers as if there was any sort of physical way he could stop the man from sharing any more information with him. He could feel himself breathing faster than he should be, and closed his eyes to try and -

“You're hyperventilating,” Summers informed him.

“Wow, _thanks_ , man,” Steve gasped, laughing briefly before holding his breath for a count of ten. Twice more found him in control again, with Summers still across the table waiting calmly for him.

“All good?”

“Yeah. Yup. Continue. El lost her powers and the gate acted like a wormhole?” Steve spoke mildly, intent on pretending that none of this was terrifying and hoping that he might soon believe it.

“You could think of it like that, I guess,” Summers considered, “El's powers is a whole other – in my past, she didn't get them back until after the government kidnapped her. She spent two years with them and when she came back she was on a whole other level.”

Steve stood so fast he knocked his chair down behind him. “What the _fuck?_ We've got to warn - ”

“Harrington!” Summers shouts, “They don't come until she's 18. We've got time.”

“Oh my god, dude, _lead with that_ ,” Steve rested his hands on his hips, taking a moment to breathe again before turning to pick his chair back up. “Couldn't have like, eased that into the conversation?”

“I've survived worse than this conversation,” Summers frowned, eyes downcast, “You can take it.”

Steve blinked but didn't argue. Dread clawed at his stomach, but the teen knew he couldn't let this conversation finish without doing exactly with Billy had suggested. He opened his mouth.

“Sorry, kid, I'm not gonna go into any details about where I came from,” Summers sat back in his chair, “Not yet, at least.”

Steve's mouth closed, and he nodded. Alright, that was fine. Considering he already almost had a panic attack, it was probably smart not to get into it. But there was something else they had to talk about, wasn't there? As distracted as he was, he remembered eventually.

“Billy Hargrove,” he said, spitting the name out like he was giving an answer on Family Feud.

Summers' expression compressed, “What about him?”

Steve scoffed a bit, thinking the questions were obvious. Why save him? Who told you to save him? How was he supposed to change the future? Except what he ended up saying was, “Stop bothering him.”

Summers _laughed_.

“I'm serious,” Steve glared, arms folded over his chest, hands balled tightly into fists where they were tucked in.

“Billy is the only thing physically different compared to last time, and I have no idea why he needs to be here,” Summers shook his head, “There's something about it that I've got to figure out.”

Steve pointed across the table, “What about you? You're pretty damn physical, and you weren't here last time, were you?”

A second passed for that thought to sink it before Steve's heart sank, “Oh God, please tell me there _wasn't_ a future version of you there last time, too.”

“No, there wasn't,” Summers reassured quickly.

Steve hunched forward, resting his forehead in the palms of his hands and closing his eyes, just for a moment.

“I could have stopped Hopper from being pulled to Russia. I could have saved Bob. Hell, I could have gone back and stopped El's Mom from signing herself into the program,” Summers' words sounded like they were being dragged through wet sand, and in that moment Steve knew exactly what he was feeling, “'First, you have to save Billy Hargrove,' El said. There _has_ to be a reason. And I don't know what that is.”

Steve lifted his head, let his hands fall and cross over each other on top of the table. For a moment they just looked at each other.

“Looks like you're not going anywhere soon,” he began, eyeing Summers' uniform, “and you've already got someone trying to find Hopper. If we've got four years before someone comes to try and kidnap Jane, I think there's some time to lay off Billy.”

Summers frowned, the dark look in his eye asking Steve to elaborate even if he didn't say anything.

“He doesn't know why you saved him, man, he told me he deserved to die that day,” Steve held a hand out, as if he was presenting some physical proof, “He just survived some crazy shit, and I dunno, maybe he's learned something from it? But you've got to stop checking up on him, give him some time to heal and process shit or whatever, I don't know.”

The dining room was quiet for a full minute, Summers surveying Steve while he stared at a spot on the table in thought.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Steve repeated.

“Yep. We'll do it your way,” Summers nodded once, “I'll leave him alone. You keep tabs, and tell me if anything changes.”

Finally, a win. Steve's shoulders sagged, and he was about to mentally pat himself on the back when Summers' request registered.

“'Keep tabs'? No. I'm not your lackey,” Steve's head shook as he pushed himself away from the table again.

Summers sighed, jaw clenching as they eyed each other across the table for the millionth time in the last few minutes. He relented.

“Fine, but you've got to at least pay attention,” Summers said, and it felt more like he was asking than expecting anything this time, “We can't lose him.”

Another moment where Steve felt like he knew what he meant, and nodded faintly. “I can pay attention.”

If he was being really honest with himself, _not_ paying any attention to Billy Hargrove would have been a far bigger challenge.


	5. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All in all, being patient sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Steve is really starting to miss his friends/family. HANG IN THERE BUDDY <3 
> 
> A bit of a shorter chapter here, but the next one will make up for it! Enjoy!

[steve, 37]

“So..." Dustin looked from Steve to Harrington and back to Steve again, clearly trying not to appear too eager, "You've been verified?"

"Owens believed me, if that's what you mean," Steve answered, prim and scowling.

"Dude," Dustin started, but Harrington was the centre of his energetic focus, "That's so _rad_."

"Jesus, Dustin," Steve and Harrington's voices echoed when they spoke at the same time, and then purposely resisted eyeing the other.

"Jesus, _Steve_ ," Dustin retorted, riled up and unable to believe that neither of them saw how awesome this was, "You turn out _bad ass._ "

It was absolute bullshit since the plan was that Harrington wouldn't have to turn out like the cynical jackass Steve knew he grew to be, but it was so like Dustin to be excited about it that he couldn't help but grin. Just a little. Harrington, hilariously, actually facepalmed.

"Can you cool it, Henderson?" he asked pointedly.

"No way, man. This is way better than intercepting that Russian code, and I'm pretty sure he's not here to hurt us," Dustin still only had eyes for Harrington, "You've got to let me have this one."

Harrington sighed as if that was the last thing he wanted, but didn't say anything. Steve shrugged, as if his opinion mattered.

“Can we go now?” Harrington suggested, and Dustin had to physically turn his body in order to tear his questioning gaze away from Steve.

“Fine,” he sighed, long suffering, “Let me get Will.”

Down the hall toward Will's room he went, leaving Steve sitting on the couch in the Byers' living room with Harrington hovering by the front door. Joyce was just changing out of her clothes from work, and he hoped she'd be back any second because through the years he'd lost his ability for small talk.

“Dustin's going to be three inches taller than us when he's done growing,” Steve offered, a random pebble of information dropped in the pond of life.

“No shit,” Harrington's expression shifted into something more relaxed than Steve's ever seen so far, “He'll never let me live that down.”

“You got that right,” Steve told him, and they shared the same fond grin as they thought of their friend until one of them recognized it on the other and they spooked.

Dustin came back through with Will at his heels, and only a minute later they had said their goodbyes and left.

Steve sagged in relief, just in time for Joyce to come back.

“Good timing, you just missed all the awkwardness,” Steve couldn't help himself. Joyce still looked at him with an uncertain glint in her eye most times, but considering the talks they've had and the fact that she was really the only other adult around who was in the know, she was the one that he seemed to be letting his guard down around the easiest.

Whether it was welcome or not was yet to be determined.

“Who was awkward?” Joyce asked, and then tilted her head in a way that asked him to follow her.

“Me and little me,” he replied, three steps behind her and walking right into her unspoken request to dry the dishes when she handed him a towel.

The thing was that Steve was pretty sure Joyce understood that he had no one else to talk to, otherwise she likely wouldn't put up with how much he visited, and how long he hung around when he did.

“Any news from Dr. Owens?” Joyce had only acknowledged his previous comment with a hum, preferring instead to possibly hear some good news about Hopper. The question was a good way to remind him that she was only invested in this because there was something to gain from it. Still, even if this forced friendship of theirs was only faked, Steve was going to take all he could get

“Haven't had an update since that one three days ago,” Steve told her, “Hopefully that means he's busy following the lead he mentioned.”

Joyce nodded, focused on the sink in front of her as she scrubbed at a bowl before adding it to the dry rack.

Staring at the plate in his hands, Steve felt suddenly and immeasurably inadequate. His entire purpose of being here was to fix the future, and all he'd accomplished so far amounted to being scolded by his younger self, and doing a whole lot of waiting for something to happen.

Maybe Harrington was right. Maybe he needed to go out and be the thing he was waiting to happen.

“You, uh -” Steve cleared his throat, attempting to use some of his knowledge about the past to lure Joyce into talking to him. Selfish as it was, the alternative – heading back to the motel just to sit around and flounder in grief – was too dauntingly grim to give into just yet, “You thinking about leaving Hawkins?”

It took a minute for Joyce to reply, and when she did she had her suspicious eye on him.

“It's been on the back of my mind,” she admitted, “What do you know about it?”

Steve swallowed before answering, embracing honesty, “You moved away a few months after the incident. El went with you.”

“In your past,” Joyce clarified, and Steve confirmed it quickly.

Joyce nodded, appearing unsettled but not nearly as surprised as she'd been when they'd first spoken.

“I can't help but think that maybe if we left Hawkins, all this shit would stop haunting and hurting my family,” Joyce confided, the first unguarded thing she shared with him.

“Yeah, I get it,” Steve told her sincerely, intent to keep any further details to himself unless she asked for them. He didn't have to wait long.

“Moving obviously didn't work,” Joyce prompted, peering up at him expectantly when she handed him a glass.

“You came back just over a year later, a few days after Hopper found his way back.”

Joyce shook her head, “I wish - “

“Me too,” Steve agreed, confident that he would have no matter how she'd planned on finished the sentiment.

“You know, I talked to Murray about what you said about Hopper,” Joyce said.

“Oh yeah?” Steve watched her while he awaited her elaboration. So far, Murray hadn't agreed to talk to him at all.

She nodded, taking a moment to consider her answer before saying, “He said he's inclined to believe you.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve repeated with a bit more enthusiasm. When she nodded again he couldn't help but feel like this was a point in his favour. Too relieved to figure out how to vocally express how good it was to hear that he might have a chance if he tried to contact Murray again – who, as such a conspiracy theorist, could probably help them quite a bit – Steve remained quiet.

Something must have shown in his expression, because Joyce gave him a tentative smile without his having to say anything. Seeing it eased his constant, nauseating worry for a moment.

“I talked some sense into myself the other day,” Steve tried to make light of it, and then realized how dumb he sounded and clarified, “With Harrington, I mean. We talked.”

Joyce's eyebrows quirked, and Steve suspected she was trolling him when she tilted her head and said, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Told me I need to focus more on what I can do here and to stop bothering Billy because all I'm doing is freaking him out.”

Joyce grinned a bit, “You always were pretty reasonable.”

“Maybe I used to be,” Steve scoffed, “Something must have happened along the way.”

He knew exactly what happened. The world became unreasonable all around him, and he'd had to learn to live off desperation. Joyce's eyes were sad suddenly, and when she didn't say anything in reply he changed the subject.

“How's El doing?”

Joyce sighed. “Still only really comes out of her room when Mike's here, or she's going to visit him. I told her to think about going to school when the year starts up.”

The thought of El going to school with her friends in Hawkins like a regular teenager had always seemed so out of reach that he was almost breathless merely considering that it could happen now. It put the pressure on him, his urgency to figure out how to take care of things well enough that El could graduate from high school with her friends and then navigate life afterwards however she liked was such that he had to clear his throat to reassure himself he still had control of his lungs.

“I think she'll like school,” he offered finally as he dried the last dish in the rack. Joyce agreed with him.

Their conversation drifted. Steve was lost to an endless mirage of swirling 'What If's and 'What Might Be's and Joyce didn't seem inclined to interrupt.

Unable to find another reason to stay any longer, Steve stopped quickly at the door to El's room to mutter a goodbye before he left. This time, with Joyce standing halfway out of the front door on the porch to wave while he backed out of the driveway, he finally felt a taste of the kinship he missed so much.

Determined to stay away from Billy, Steve dedicated himself more thoroughly to being Hawkins' Chief of Police. He answered calls and filled out forms, rifled through complaints, and answered so many questions about the 'fire' at the mall that he had his appropriately inconspicuous responses down so well that he could probably answer them in his sleep. He signed a lease for an apartment, and continued to get to know his crew at the station, along with the staff of the diner where he ate most of his meals.

“You need a nice girl to take care of you,” Aggie told him after a week of seeing him there for breakfast and lunch every day, dinner every other. She was sixty, and Steve remembered her trying to set him up with her granddaughter when he was younger, “My daughter's husband left her six months ago, she could use someone to cook for.”

Steve sputtered coffee all down his chin, and was still clearing this throat as he mopped the mess up with the napkins she handed him from her apron.

“Thanks for the offer, Aggie,” he started, “But I gave my heart away a long time ago and haven't seen it since.”

Aggie tutted something ironic about forgetting the past and then topped off his coffee before she walked away. She meant it kindly, but all it did was leave him to think about who he'd left his heart with, and the likelihood that they might not even meet now. Unable to finish his dinner, Steve left his payment and tip on the table and left.

They were coming up on twenty one days since the incident, and Steve hadn't heard anything from Dr. Owens since day nine. Waiting was killer. Steve was working long hours at the station and had his hand in every single case that came through these days. He spent his early hours running through town, and his late hours doing push-ups on the floor of his room with the TV on to drown out the quiet. He saw Joyce every couple of days, had discussions with El about her powers, and even talked her through some meditations that her older self had taught him. He avoided Billy purposely and only checked in briefly on Harrington twice since their talk.

All in all, being patient sucked.

Which is why, despite his tendency to default to a frown, he was pleasantly surprised to see Dustin and Lucas on the other side of his office door the morning of the twenty first day.

“Something wrong?” He asked, suddenly worried that they were only there because something had happened.

“Nope! No no,” Dustin was quick to say, one hand up to reinforce his answer with an earnest wave, “We're here to offer our services.”

Steve had spent years dealing with Dustin's outlandish plans and wild theories, he could smell one coming from a mile away. Relaxing, he raised his eyebrows.

“We want to volunteer,” Lucas amended.

“We're strong and eager, there's got to be some filing or taking out the trash or evidence room organization we can help with,” Dustin suggested, easing back into his rambling eagerness.

Steve set his feet shoulder width apart and hooked one thumb near the holster on his belt.

“If you honestly want to volunteer, we can find something for you to do a few hours a week,” Steve offered reasonably, “But if you're just curious about me, maybe I can just be a guest speaker at one of your group meetings or something?”

Dustin brightened but Lucas reigned back his enthusiasm, ”We can ask and get back to you.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded, “You know where to find me.”

Maybe he should have clarified that he wouldn't be answering everything. Although he had no system in place to determine what he might say or not, so in the end his answers were likely to surprise him as well. But they were bright kids, they had to know that there would be a limit to what he would share.

“And if I still want to volunteer?” Dustin asked.

“Be my guest,” Steve confirmed.

The teen launched into something about whether or not it would be too much to do both, but was cut off when the phone on his desk rang.

“Both is fine,” he reassured, twisting to reach for the phone. He tucked it between his ear and shoulder and crossed his arms again as he greeted, “Summers.”

“Steve?” The voice on the line was thick with tears and still recognizable. Steve jolted to his feet and turned away from the boys, “Max? What's wrong?”

“Something happened,” she said, and then he could hear her take a long, shuddering breath.

“Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?” He pressed the phone hard against his ear, trying to hear anything in the background.

“Not hurt, no ambulance,” she said, “Can you just come? I don't know what – I can't - ”

“Is it safe for you to wait until I get there?” Steve had to wave an arm behind him now, it was getting hard to ignore the uproar Lucas, and to a lesser extent, Dustin, had started the moment they heard him say 'Max'.

“Yes,” she said, but added, “Hurry.”

“Can you stay on the phone with Lucas until I get there?” Steve sunk into the detached knowledge that he was in charge and there were other people counting on him. The fear he pushed aside to peruse later was clear in Lucas and Dustin's expressions when he turned to face them again.

Lucas stepped forward just as Max told him that yes, she could talk to Lucas.

“Okay, I will be right there. Do not move. Do not hang up on Lucas. If anything changes, tell him and he will tell Dustin to call an ambulance, okay sweetheart?” Steve ordered as he checked his holster and pulled his keys from his pocket. Max agreed and he handed the phone off to Lucas.

“I'm here, Max. What's happening?” Lucas began instantly, stepping away from the other two as if he might find some privacy.

“Dustin, do you know Max's address?” Steve was grateful when Dustin nodded, “Give it to Leandra at the desk. She is the one you'll yell at to call 911 if Lucas tells you to, got it?”

“Don't you think I should come with you? You might need backup!” Dustin almost sounded more outraged at being left behind than anything else.

“No, dude,” Steve rounded on Dustin in the hallway where the teen was intent on following him, “I need you here, and believe it or not I have actual Deputies I can call for backup. Do not follow me or I swear I will handcuff you and leave you in a cell overnight, don't care how old you are.”

Dustin whined high in his throat, surprised by Steve's candid threat. But the time traveller had not come all this way just for any of the younger semi-innocent crew to keep throwing themselves headfirst into every dangerous situation that showed up.

“Fine,” Dustin accepted, “you can trust the station to me and Lucas.”

“Great,” Steve snapped, too harsh compared to the relief that finally allowed him to turn and rush out of the station and into his cruiser.

Forgoing his seat belt, Steve screeched back out of his spot and then squealed away, reaching for the radio as he flicked on the cab lights. “Standby backup requested. First two responders call in, over.”

Max hadn't given any real clue what was going on other than saying no one needed medical attention, but she'd been crying, and that alone had him brain storming worst case scenarios.

_Please, no_ , he begged whatever was or was not out there that had woven worlds and timelines together in such a way that it had been possible for him to come back to try again, _Please don't let me be too late._


	6. Manifest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm not going to hurt you,” Billy told her, and maybe he sounded angry but it was only because he knew that when she flinched it meant she was afraid he might do something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some verbal, physical parental abuse. 
> 
> I honestly am sorry about last chapter's cliffhanger, it just really felt like this chapter needed to start where it does. Hope you're all doing well! Enjoy :)

[billy, 18]

This was how it started.

“Any idea why I've been seeing Max with that _kid_?” Neil asked it casually, but when Billy looked up from where he was on his bed rifling through a box of records, he could see the fight waiting in his Dad's hooded gaze.

Muscles tensed, heart beat raced, nostrils flared - the fear was instinctive, by now. Was it really worth it, though? Billy mused to himself, morbidly curious. Why be afraid when he knew he deserved whatever pain came his way?

“Probably because they're friends,” Billy ignored the suffocating urge in his chest that screamed at him to apologize, to let Neil hear what he wanted to hear. He let his gaze drop back to the records, hoping to piss him off even more even though he knew it was dangerous to take his eyes off him right now. Trying not to make it obvious that he was tucking his arm protectively against his side, Billy braved the rushing in his ears as he strained to catch any sort of motion, any sort of forewarning that Neil was on the attack.

“I shouldn't be surprised you don't know how to get a stupid girl to listen to you,” Neil's voice sounded regretful, like there was something in him that thought it was too bad it had to come to this. Neil turned to leave the room, muttering under his breath, “Might do you good to see a real man teach a lesson.”

He could have fallen over from the sheer relief of Neil backing off if it hadn't meant that he'd shifted focus instead. The shadow faded from the door to his room and Billy stared after him, heart hammering in dawning horror.

Terrible understanding crept along his skin like a cold front, leaving him breathless.

“Wait,” he called out, but his voice cracked and his Dad neither heard nor cared.

Stomach lurching when he moved, Billy forced himself up to follow Neil. There was a measure of disbelief that Neil would give in to terrorizing Max so easily and suddenly. Even more sickening was how inevitable it all felt to go out into the living room and hear Neil shout for Max to get off the phone.

“One minute," Max was trying to be reasonable, "Jane's just telling me a - ”

Making him wait was a mistake she didn't know she was making, but she learned quickly when Neil reached over and hung up the call with two fingers.

“I said _off_ the phone,” Neil stepped forward to yank the phone out of her grasp and slammed it on the cradle. Max stared at him, stunned and furious.

“Hey, _wait_ ,” Billy tried again, uncertain but hopeful that Neil was just bluffing. Right about now he'd welcome a few well-connected punches to whatever he might be planning to do to Max.

“I've kept my mouth shut for too long. You've been prancing around here like it isn't disgusting how unladylike you are, like you aren't pleased to have so much attention from all those boys you hang out with. But I'm done putting up with the sort of _company_ you keep, do you understand me?” Neil raged, and Max's face had drained of all colour by the time he stopped long enough to take a breath.

"I - " Max's gaze shifted to Billy but he didn't have anything to offer her but intense sympathy, "I'm just going to...go to my room."

She should have apologized, Billy thought, and then maybe he would have left her untouched when she got up to move past him and go to her room. Except she didn't have anything to apologize for, he thought to himself, and then recognized that the constricted feeling in his chest wasn't fear, it was pure, concentrated anger.

Billy was stuck where he was, paralyzed even as he shook with the need to act. Neil reached a hand out when she tried to breeze by him to leave the room, grabbed a fistful of her long hair and yanked her back with all of his strength. With her scream of pain something clicked, and Billy squeezed his eyes shut and let out his own shriek of rage. He pushed off the wall and stalked forward, hands out , intent on shoving Neil away from Max as hard as he could.

With a thud and a strangled, surprised cry, Neil was thrown off his feet and slammed back into the wall, a picture shattering when his shoulder smashed into it. He slid to the floor and Billy stopped short, hands falling useless to his sides and chest heaving as he breathed. It occurred to him blandly that he had still been over a foot away from the man, but he was too busy baring his teeth and satisfied with the fear in Neil's eyes to worry about how he could have possibly managed that without contact.

"Stay away from me, freak," he hissed, and when he struggled to stand he could hardly bear weight on one leg and there was a small piece of glass from the broken picture sticking out of the back of his neck. Neil reached back and pulled it out, hobbling to pull the towel off the stove handle before pressing it against the bleeding wound.

"What kind of monster..." Neil gasped, keeping one eye on Billy as he moved. Forgetting Max completely, Neil checked for his wallet and his keys and then he was limping out of the house, leaning against the wall as he went, "When I come back, you better be gone from this house, boy."

Hands clenching into fists and then relaxing at his sides while he stared after him, Billy almost couldn't believe that was all it took to get rid of the bastard. One simple thing, and it had been so easy to toss him like that. Head pounding as he reached up to wipe his nose with a thumb only to realize that his nose was bleeding, Billy turned. In the kitchen Max was crying and hunched around the phone, saying something Billy couldn't hear because his heartbeat was thudding too loudly in his ears.

"You okay?"

Max nodded, watery gaze on him, expression twisted with something he couldn't identify.

"Who're you talking to?" He asked, stumbling halfway through a step toward her when Max flinched at his movement.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Billy told her, and maybe he sounded angry but it was only because he knew that when she flinched it meant that she was afraid he might do something. They'd understood each other better lately, so it made it harder to see the proof that there was still a lot she didn't trust about him.

“Billy, I - ” Max stopped to hush the person on the other end of the phone, then wiped at her eyes and gave Billy her full attention, “Do you even know what you just did?”

He'd finally scared Neil off for once in his life, he argued silently, knowing it wasn't enough of an answer because of _how_ he'd managed it. Frowning and fidgety, he finally let himself understand that it shouldn't be possible to be able to throw anyone into a wall without touching them. Billy staggered back, shoulder knocking against the door frame when he turned away from Max and headed to his room.

Max was right to be scared of him, because the only other time he'd been able to accomplish anything like that was when he'd been under control of the Mind Flayer. Which could mean – well, if he still _was_ , he knew that Neil was right and he needed to get as far away from there as possible. Going to his closet, Billy pulled out the suitcase that waited there, packed and ready for urgent escapes. He packed a backpack without seeing, trying to focus on where he was going to go rather than what this all meant for him now. When he ran out of space he left his bedroom to retrieve a garbage bag from under the kitchen sink.

The problem – as if there was just one – was that when he made it to the kitchen there was another figure talking to Max. Billy froze on the spot as two faces turned toward him.

“Billy,” Summers straightened when he addressed him, sounding like he was maybe trying to be sensitive even though it echoed like a warning. Billy grit his teeth and glared at him briefly, wondering what it was about him that always ended up pissing him off so easily.

Intent on ignoring him, he moved through the kitchen and took what he needed from under the sink. On his way back a warm grasp of his upper arm stopped him from disappearing down the hallway, but Billy was able to twist out of it with urgency but no trouble.

“Don't touch me,” he snapped, sick to his stomach at the sudden prospect of hurting anyone else.

It was such a relief and so much easier to lean into anger than cave to fear, and when Billy met Summers' gaze he felt a sudden, righteous need to defend himself.

“I told you I wouldn't let him touch her,” he said, “and I _told_ him to wait. I didn't know that I'd, that I could...”

“Kid, if you're worried you're in trouble for whatever happened to your Dad, relax. That piece of shit deserved whatever happened and then some,” Summers recited this all reassuringly, but for some reason that only proved to solidify Billy's own guilt. His Dad had years of abuse under his belt, but as far as Billy knew he hadn't actually murdered anyone.

“How long has he been like that, Billy?” Max asked, following them from the kitchen, “I knew he was strict with you but I didn't know...I didn't know.”

Did she think she would have been able to do anything if she had known sooner? Blinking away blurry vision, Billy gave a dark, wet laugh and found he couldn't even get a full breath in. 

“I need to leave. I don't know how the fuck I did that, what if - ” Billy breathed in some confidence to say it, “What if _it's_ alive because I'm alive?”

Summers started to shake his head, but Billy scoffed.

“I was dead where you come from, you can't deny I might be right,” he reasoned. Summers rested his hands on his hips, expression pinched, but at least he took a moment to think before he spoke.

“Fine. I move into my apartment tomorrow, but my hotel room is covered until the end of the month so you can stay there,” he decided, “We can figure out what's going on.”

Head shaking, Billy stepped back and turned towards his room.

“I can't be around anyone. I don't know what I – I might lose control or something and...” he trailed off, annoyed by how easy it was to leave sentences unfinished when you didn't know what the hell was happening.

“You can't just _go_ ,” Max said, “You need to be around people who know you, who know what happened. This doesn't mean that thing has got control of you.”

Dammit, now his hands were shaking.

“Right?” Max added.

That's exactly what he was afraid of, and since they'd already established that Summers didn't have any idea how things with Billy were now that he was alive, he couldn't stay. Whatever hope he had started to buy into about living some semblance of a normal life again had been a joke, and he didn't know why he hadn't seen it sooner.

A loud thud sounded, and then footsteps – someone had just rushed into their house. Afraid that it was Neil back so soon, Billy made it to his bedroom window and tossed his packed bags to the lawn outside once he'd opened it. Ignoring the commotion, the questions and hastily-shared explanation of what happened, Billy had one foot up on the window sill by the time someone noticed what he was doing.

“Billy, what the hell?” Harrington had pushed Summers out of the way, that insistent flop of hair waving angrily over his forehead as he came to a stop just inside Billy's room. It looked like it was telling him off for trying to jump out of his window, and reminded Billy of all the times he wanted nothing more than to pull on that hair.

Now was one of them.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Billy returned, surprised enough that he let his foot fall back to the floor. Leaning onto his elbow on the window so he could still slip out at any given time, the man scowled, “I don't need two of you. The _world_ doesn't need two of you.”

“According to him it does,” Harrington had the balls to gesture to Summers when he said this, his gaze tracking around the room, peering out the window, and putting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

“He was over, made him drive me,” Jane explained, stepping into view in the doorway with one hand holding onto Max, “She told me what you did.”

All he could feel was her eyes on him, and Billy knew instantly that he'd let them all down. He stared at her, eyes burning, and shook his head. “I didn't do anything. I just held out my hands and it - ” His voice failed and his eyes closed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Billy, no. You aren't - “

“You weren't here, Jane,” Billy burst, shouting easily now, “You didn't see it. I didn't even _touch_ him. How could I have thrown him unless it was back? And I haven't felt like myself since – it's got to be back. You think I'm right, don't you, Summers?”

Behind all the others, Summers was the furthest away from him now. Leaning his back against the wall of the hallway opposite the door to Billy's room, the Chief pursed his lips and shrugged.

“There's another possibility.”

Billy's shoulders sagged, but he stood his ground and waited for an explanation.

“El thinks the Mind Flayer took her powers,” Harrington started, his arms folded while he kept his eyes searchingly trained on Billy, “and gave them to you.”

Everything wavered when Billy blinked, and when he opened his eyes again he was sitting on the edge of his bed with Harrington tucked at his side under one arm and Max and Jane hovering in front of his face.

“He's back,” Summers noted critically, the least invested of all of them from where he stood in the doorway.

“When you feel lightheaded you need to sit down before you swoon,” Harrington ordered, as if Billy could have prevented any of this from getting to him.

“Didn't swoon, Harrington, you're not that pretty,” he drawled, tone lacking its usual sarcastic bite.

Billy sighed, figuring it would be better to get this shit over with sooner rather than later, and prompted, “Powers?”

They moved to the kitchen table so that everyone could have a seat, and then when that felt too formal they moved to the living room instead. Billy did his best to believe Jane when she explained but he couldn't manage to completely keep the expression off his face that made him look like he thought they were all full of shit.

“Weren't you at the mall when El tossed that car?” Harrington pointed out, restless perched on the arm of the couch beside Max.

“I wasn't there until the end,” Billy shot back, pointedly enough that Harrington only sighed in reply.

Summers had been uncharacteristically quiet since Jane started her explanation, but Billy was so overwhelmed trying to understand what they thought was happening to him that he didn't notice until the man finally spoke up, subdued.

“It's you,” he said, expression soft with wariness. Billy wasn't sure he'd ever had Summers look at him with anything less than critical judgment until that exact moment. “After saving you, El said I needed to teach her the short cuts, but she didn't know that you would end up with her abilities. I have to teach you.”

Billy didn't know what the hell any of that meant, and he really didn't think he wanted to be part of anything Steve Summers had to offer him. Scowl deepening, Billy kept his eye on the man.

“We can do this. Billy can learn how to short cut through the Upside Down, and we'll defeat these monsters and save the world,” Summers spoke hopefully, expression open and vulnerable. Billy watched as he even tried to send him a smile, just so damn pleased that he finally figured out what Billy's life was good for.

Billy couldn't take it.

“I'm done here, Harrington,” Billy announced, like that one time at the group meeting meant he was clear to do this whenever, “Take me home.”

“Uh - ” Harrington blinked, eyed wide and surprised as they took in the room. Billy stood up and sighed.

“Just, can you get me out of here, please?" Billy asked, and Harrington only needed another half a second before he agreed.

“Summers, can you drive El home?” Harrington asked, only moving toward the front door after Billy when Summers agreed.

Harrington followed Billy outside and all the way around the house to retrieve the things he'd thrown onto the lawn earlier. With the two of them it only took one trip, and once they had shoved the things into the back seat of the car, they climbed into their respective sides of the front.

“If it's true you have the ability, it wouldn't hurt to try,” Harrington suggested, focusing on getting the key into the ignition and getting the car running, “No one expects to just toss you at the Upside Down and let you go at it alone.”

Billy didn't even take the bait to twist the suggestive words that had been so carelessly offered, he just stayed quiet until his thoughts fully formed into a coherent sentence.

“I'm only good at two things, Harrington,” he said, “Basketball, and hurting people.”

Silence followed, and for a moment Billy thought that finally the truth really had set him free from expectation.

“You know, it sort of sounds like you think the Mind Flayer chose you because you're a bad guy,” Harrington mused, so close to the truth that Billy clenched his jaw to keep from admitting to it. Harrington peered over, frowning when Billy didn't correct him.

“Did you know that last year, one of those monsters got into Will Byers' head?” he said, and Billy didn't believe him, “Seriously. He got here through Will Byers', who is much smaller than you and way less prone to violence. The Mind Flayer chooses it's host by convenience. You were literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, Billy.”

Billy was caged in, stuck having to listen to Harrington's theory. Even though he wished it was true, he didn't think he deserved it to be. He managed to pull out a cigarette and light up, sucking in a deep drag of smoke while eyeing Harrington.

“Summers may be a dick, but he came back to purposely save you,” Harrington pointed out, words trimmed with optimism, “Maybe you need to start considering that in the future, El could see what would happen if you lived. Maybe she knew you what you could be capable of with these powers. Maybe that's why she chose you.”

Billy breathed out smoke, stomach dropping. He wanted to be angry and dismissive, but it didn't piss him off nearly as much as it should have that he simply hadn't thought of things this way. And if Harrington was right about this, too?

Well, fuck.

“Where am I bringing you?” Harrington asked, pulling to a stop at a red light.

Billy honestly couldn't care less, “The cheapest motel in Hawkins.”

Harrington made no comment, so Billy let himself fall into a trance as he stared out of the window until they finally pulled to a stop nowhere near anything that looked like a cheap motel.

“Where the hell are we?” Billy demanded. It only took seconds to take in the manicured lawns, multiple, spotlessly clean cars in each driveway, and the sinking in his stomach.

“You can stay with me,” Harrington said, working already to drag Billy's things from the backseat of the car.

“In your wildest wet dreams, King Steve,” Billy replied, torn between wanting to rush Harrington in order to get his things back and not wanting to leave the car at all.

“I'll charge you a nightly rate if it'll make your delicate sensibilities feel better,” Harrington challenged, loaded down with Billy's things when he kicked the back door shut with one foot.

“Too classy for hourly?”

“I'd have made that joke if I didn't think you'd take up the offer,” Harrington smirked. Billy could see that he thought he was so clever, and suddenly all he could do was clear his dry throat.

“What's so much better about going to a motel?” Harrington prompted, but Billy didn't bother to answer.

“Why are you here? Why do you give a fuck?” Billy decided that he wasn't going to get out of the car unless Harrington gave him an actual answer. He was Summers' problem, apparently, and Harrington had already been keen on pointing out that they were two different people.

“Can't we talk about this inside?” Harrington whined.

Just to be a bitch about it, Billy made a show of slowly locking the car door with one finger, and Harrington sighed.

“Fucking drama queen,” he accused, drifting closer to the car so they wouldn't be yelling at each other from halfway across the lawn.

“I just don't trust Summers, okay?” Harrington set the suitcase on the ground for a moment to hoist the strap of Billy's backpack higher on his shoulder, “I know that he's future me, but I also know how far I would go to protect the kids. And I know he's trying to save the future but...he doesn't like you.”

“And you do,” Billy snapped

Harrington ran a hand through his hair and started gesturing emphatically when he spoke, “No, that's not – he's a wild card, is all. We're all just taking his word for it that he is who he says he is, but what if he's lying? Even if he's just lying about why he saved you.”

“And I'm...”

“You're part of the crew now, man. I don't know,” Harrington shrugged. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he moved to pick Billy's things back up again and asked in exasperation, “Will you just accept some help?”

“Fine,” Billy gave in, mind full as he climbed out of the car.

“Awesome,” Harrington said, sharp and sarcastic.

Billy paced after Harrington toward the house, not bothering to carry any of his things for the rest of the way in. The tour of the house was quick and he was quiet throughout. Once they made it to a guest bedroom, the teen sat on the edge of the bed and braced a pillow against his side for a moment. When he finally got his head out of his ass for long enough to remember that Neil had gone after Max, he reached out to Harrington.

"If Max needs somewhere safe to go, can she come here too?" And fuck if that wasn't the most pathetic thing he could have asked.

"Why wouldn't she be safe at home?"

Billy scoffed, "You really want me to believe that old Steve didn't tell you?"

"Billy, just - Will you please just tell me what the hell she wouldn't be safe from at your house?" Harrington was looming over him, eyes sharp, and Billy was reminded that he probably considered Max as one of the kids he'd protect.

"Your old man ever shove you around a bit?" Billy chanced a cursory glance up to see Harrington's expression sharpen in understanding, "Today was the first time he went after Max."

Harrington didn't say anything for so long that Billy had to look up again. He found the boy eyeing him critically, judgmental in a way that didn't seem predetermined.

"Course she can come here if she needs to," he said finally, "There's a lot of fucking empty space here the could do with filling up."

When Billy watched Harrington leave the room, his mind cleared long enough to register that he possibly, sort of admired Steve's massive fucking Hero Complex.


	7. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce came in then, a mug of something steaming in her hand and a bemused grin on her face as she watched them and found a place to sit.
> 
> “It's nice seeing you two get along,” she said, “Weird, but nice.”
> 
> Steve had nothing to say to that, and it turned out neither did Summers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this is your first time finding this story, or you've been sticking around awaiting chapters, thank you so much for reading. I really hope you enjoy it, or continue to do so!
> 
> The next update will be a little bit longer coming, closer to 7-10 days this time. Busy week coming up for me!

[steve, 19]

Steve took care getting ready the next morning, and hung around in the kitchen waiting for Billy to get up until he realized he'd be late if he waited any longer. After worrying for too long about whether he should just leave a note, in the end he huffed and strode to Billy's room.

Knuckles on the door, Steve didn't pop his head in until he heard a grunt he translated as a greeting.

"I'm heading out, need anything?" he asked casually.

Eyes barely opened, Billy rolled to face the door with the blanket twisting around his body as he moved.

"Hot date?" he rasped, gaze trailing down Steve's body.

"Interview," Steve shifted in place.

"Sending any babysitters while you're gone?"

"Do I need to?" Steve shot back.

No answer.

"See you in a while," he finished, oddly relieved as he shut the door and retreated from the room.

Robin had reassured him that the interview was a formality, so rather than stress about that he instead stressed about the man sleeping in his guest bedroom the entire drive there. And then throughout the interview, all the time it took him to fill out his paperwork, and even when he met Robin in front of Family Video afterwards.

"Billy Hargrove is staying at my house," he admitted, voice low like they were back to trading theories about Russians again, “for now.”

"What?"

"Yeah, he's got...stuff going on," Steve said, a sad excuse.

Robin was eyeing him like he was another secret code to uncover.

"What?" he prompted.

"You sure this has nothing to do with your thing for a smart mouth with a stubborn streak and curly hair?" Robin eyed him particularly, like she was trying to discern his thoughts by reading the curl of his eyelashes.

Steve didn't understand at first, but the moment he did he gave an embarrassingly loud, honking laugh.

"Maybe there's a reason you bombed with all those girls," she tested, brow creased thoughtfully.

"Robin, I'm not - "

“I had to accept it before I realized I'd been noticing things for a long time already,” Robin explained, and even though it was vague he knew exactly what she was saying, “So spill, Harrington. Have you been noticing things? About Billy Hargrove?”

Steve scoffed, nudging at Robin's shoulder with his own and purposely ignoring her last question, “The sailor uniform was the reason I bombed with all those girls.”

Robin dropped it soon after that, which was good for her because Steve probably wouldn't have suggested grabbing lunch together if she hadn't let it go. Choosing the diner across the street from Family Video, they chatted all the way in but didn't quite make it to the booth they were heading toward.

“Steve!” A familiar voice called out before adding belatedly, “Robin! Over here!”

Nancy and Jonathan were occupying the last booth in the line, nestled in across the table from each other. While she gestured for them to come over, Nancy was already moving to bring herself and her things over to sit beside her boyfriend, leaving the other side free.

Steve shared a look with Robin before heading over. With a starry-eyed focus that Steve found hilarious, Nancy watched them settle in together.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted, passing a menu over to Robin without looking.

“Have you been seeing my articles in the paper?” Nancy hadn't hesitated in getting straight to whatever she had on her mind, dissipating Steve's anticipation that this was about to be a very awkward lunch.

“That thing about Summers?” Robin asked.

“Not that fluff piece. I've written like six others since the fire at the mall,” Nancy was so used to talking about the cover story that she didn't even stumble when she said it, “There's been an upheaval at the office. And look, I know they _died_ , but our bosses were sexist assholes, and I'm going to show them all what I'm worth before the storm settles.”

“Harsh,” Robin commented, and for a moment Steve thought he recognized the glaze of admiration in his friend's eyes as she watched Nancy, “Love it. Continue.”

Nancy had the decency to blush.

“Leave it to Nancy Wheeler to take advantage of being the only competent one left when the castle crumbles,” Steve grinned, “No offence, Jonathan.”

“None taken,” he replied, smile stretching his lips while he leaned back and laid an arm across the top of the booth behind his girlfriend.

“Their mistake was they put me at the desk, but since the incident there's been an increase in calls. It's like this fire was the last suspicious thing this town could handle, and now everyone wants to open up about the strange, weird things that have happened around here. Some recent, but some of the accounts I've been getting go two decades back,” Nancy's eyes shone, and the only reason she stopped to breathe was because the waitress had just arrived, brandishing a small pad of paper and a pen.

They ordered quickly, and Robin piped up the moment the waitress stepped away.

“Any tips relating to the events occurring the last couple of years?”

“Some, yes,” Nancy rested her elbows on top of the table and leaned forward, “I didn't bring my notes, but I'm working on compiling a timeline. I'm hoping to get Summers' input, but I'd love to show you guys too if you're interested.”

Steve was interested even if he didn't think showing them would be of any help, and when Robin nodded her head as well Nancy sat back to settle under Jonathan's arm, satisfied.

“How's your day going?” Jonathan asked, filling in the lull in conversation.

“Alright,” Steve shrugged, kneeing Robin's leg under the table in an attempt to keep her from telling them about his house guest, “Robin got me an interview at Family Video.”

Steve raised his arm, circling a pointed finger in the air above his head, “Woo-hoo, looks like I'll be employed again.”

“That's great,” Nancy said, her tight smile suggesting to Steve that she was physically stopping herself from commenting on his decision to take some time off post-secondary.

“No need to sound so grateful,” Robin deadpanned at his side.

“I'm just saying, it would have been better if you had an in at the movie theatre,” he joked, continuing their usual straight-faced dramatics, “I'd even wear the Sailor suit again if it got me free movies and popcorn on my breaks.”

“You would _not_ ,” Robin called out his bluff, arms crossed on the table.

“I'd scoop the popcorn with my ice cream scoop,” he tried not to grin, “I'd wear the hat and everything.”

Robin scoffed while the couple across the table from them laughed, and when Steve grinned everything felt normal. Knowing this sort of easy outing came with expiration dates, he settled in to enjoy it while it lasted.

The following Friday night had somehow become 'Awkward Hang Out With My Older Self' night, although once he was there and it was happening it just felt plain awkward.

“Want something to drink, Steve?” Joyce called from her kitchen.

“No thanks!” Steve replied, his answer echoing exactly in time with Summers'. For a split second he wished fiercely that he'd taken up the offer to go to the movies with Nancy, Jonathan, and the other kids in the party, only he'd promised Billy that if Summers was going to be here he'd stay. His house guest looked like it actually hurt to admit it, but he still didn't want to have much of anything to do with old Steve.

The Chief was dressed down, and technically in the living room with him even though he was hovering by the mouth of the hallway. Billy and Jane were talking in her room, and Steve figured Summers must _hate_ not being actively involved with whatever was happening in there.

“How've things been going for Max?” he asked, deciding that he might as well get some useful information if he had to be here anyways, “Been keeping your eye on Neil?”

“Yeah,” Summers nodded, clearly only half listening, “She's okay. I called Max's Mom home from work that day, might have been a little mean about telling her to do a better job protecting the kids in her house. No one's pressing charges, and she swears Neil's never put a hand on her or Max so, there's only so much I can do. Gave her a bunch of numbers she could call if she needed help, and I've been running into Neil as naturally as I can. He's such a - ”

Cracking half of a grin, Steve was pretty sure he knew exactly how Summers had meant to finish that thought. The older man rubbed one hand down his face and then readjusted his crossed arms.

“Sit down, Summers,” Steve ordered, turning his focus back to the TV show none of them were really watching.

Summers lingered a moment longer and then came back, perching on the edge of an armchair with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him.

“This is literally what I came back here to do, and he can barely even look at me,” Summers complained.

Steve glanced over for a second, and when he caught the man's eye they scowled at each other.

“Seems to like you well enough.”

“You jealous?” Steve couldn't believe it.

“No, I'm just – wait, are you two...” Summers trailed off, appearing sincerely horrified with whatever assumption he was coming to.

“There's only one way to finish that sentence, and it's a mouthful,” Steve said, and then sighed loudly when he heard how it sounded, “'Are you two residing under the same roof temporarily?' You ask? Yes. And that's it.”

Summers' shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath through pursed lips. Steve turned back to the TV, unsure how they suddenly got to this, or why was making him feel like he needed to defend himself.

“I mean, it's okay to like or be attracted to whoever,” Summers chose his words carefully, “But _Billy Hargrove_? C'mon, there's - “

“Dude,” Steve gaped, bewildered, “What the hell? I'm not – wait, are _you_ \- “

“How old are you, again?” Summers looked at him intently, actually drawing closer.

“Nineteen,” Steve said.

“Right. Okay, well,” Summers sighed and then waved a hand in the air, “Just, nevermind. If I'm still here in two years, we can talk.”

Steve hoped Summers didn't think he'd succeeded in reassuring him of anything, because now he wondered even more if – well, even admitting it in his head would make it too real. He settled for scoffing and crossed his arms just in case his racing heart was going so fast that someone would be able to see it.

“Your future is not my future,” he commented.

“I really don't think our preferences have anything to do with - ”

“Okay!” Steve's hands shot up, held out as if he could physically stop this conversation from happening, “This is really unnecessary. Can we just - ”

“I'm just saying,” Summers was possibly even more skilled at cutting off than Robin was, “If it's okay for your friends, it's okay for you too, alright? So just, chillax. Okay?”

Steve wasn't dumb, he knew there was really only on reason Summers was insisting on saying any of this. Logically, he was even right about it, Steve just wasn't ready to accept anything yet. The quiet that settled felt like understanding, so when Steve responded, he purposely shifted focus.

“'Chillax'? Really?”

“You questioning the time traveller?”

“Uh, yeah, because you sound _stupid_.”

“It'll grow on you.”

“I really don't think it will.”

“Give it until the new millennium, you'll see.”

Joyce came in then, a mug of something steaming in her hand and a bemused grin on her face as she watched them and found a place to sit.

“It's nice seeing you two get along,” she said, “Weird, but nice.”

Steve had nothing to say to that, and it turned out neither did Summers.

“Everything going okay?” Joyce tried again, her gaze shifting pointedly to the hallway.

“No idea,” Summers sighed, leaning back in his chair, “But I haven't heard any screaming, so I guess it's fine.”

“Do you think it's going to work?” Joyce asked.

“It has to,” Summers replied wearily.

Steve stared at him, trying to think about how it would feel to be in his shoes. To survive through so many awful things and then come back to fix things only to know you weren't trusted by those you were supposed to teach. For a second he felt so bad for him that he could barely breathe.

“Summers, about Billy,” he said, “That stuff going on with his Dad, you've got to realize he doesn't trust adults. Or maybe it's just men, I don't know. But, you're this weird thing that shouldn't be allowed to be here and mixed with the other shit – I don't think you should take it personally.”

Joyce took a well-timed sip from her drink, and even though Summers didn't offer any sort of response, he leaned back into his chair and retreated into some heavy thinking for the rest of the evening.

For the next five minutes, at least, because then there was a flash of headlights lighting up the front window curtains, a car door slamming, and then footsteps stomping up the porch stairs. Steve was on his feet by the time the doorknob was turning, and was vaguely aware that the other two had goten up as well.

“Where are they?” Mike Wheeler demanded the instant he stepped foot inside the house. Steve rolled his eyes, sinking back into his spot. The kid had a good glare on him, but Joyce was already attempting to ease his suspicion. Head shaking as if to say he was disappointed in her, Mike had the nerve to try and wave Joyce off – not a good move, if Summers' scowl was anything to go by.

“Sorry, he would have ran all the way here if I hadn't driven him,” Jonathan explained. Shutting the front door behind him after he entered sheepishly, he went largely ignored by the others.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with you, kid,” Summers was back to crossing his arms while he stared Mike down, and he planted his feet to block the entrance to the hallway.

“Only because no one _told_ me,” Mike complained loudly, “I had to find out because Jonathan and Nancy were whispering about it instead of making out for once.”

Okay well, _that_ was funny, even more so when Jonathan's cheeks tinged pink, but Steve managed to keep his laugh in because Summers looked like he was about ready to pop Mike one in the face.

“Are they in her room? You left her alone with Billy Hargrove?” Mike's voice hiked up in pitch. Taking three steps forward and casing every part of the house that he could see, he only paused when his gaze rested on Steve, “Even you, Steve?”

And that caught him in the heart, because even if Mike had a singular focus when it came to keeping El safe, he thought the kid trusted that Steve also had her best in mind, too. “There's just some stuff that they've got to talk about that - ”

“Mike?”

Steve stood again, might as well turn to have a look along with everyone else in the room. Of course Mike's voice had permeated the thin walls in the Byers' house, and El had opened the door to her room and stood, wide-eyed, in the hallway.

Summers stepped aside to let Mike pass and he went and gathered his girlfriend in his arms, glaring at Billy when he exited the room. Shuffling his way by the younger teens, Billy only had eyes for Steve once he made it to the living room.

“Guess that calls it a night. Harrington?” Billy didn't slow, merely headed straight for the front door and out of the house.

Speechless, mouth slightly agape, Steve peered over at Joyce and then met Summers' eyes before giving a weak shrug and following after Billy.

There was something subdued about the drive home, but Steve managed to keep his mouth shut about it. He barely even looked at Billy once he emerged from El's room with her close behind, he didn't want to be the one to ask how it went, and he was afraid he would look too curious.

“Just ask, Harrington,” Billy urged finally, turning a grin on him that was far too wide, showing teeth that seemed far too shiny, “I know you want to.”

“There's a lot of things I want to do that I don't,” Steve snapped back, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Yeah?” Billy shifted in his seat, turning to face him better, but Steve made sure to keep track only through his peripherals, “Gonna share with the class?”

No, he wasn't, and once he kept quiet long enough for Billy to realize that, he decided to offer something of his own.

“She told me about growing up in the lab. The sort of stuff they made her do. What her first experiences with her powers were like,” he spoke to the windshield, pulling out and lighting a cigarette before continuing, “The bad guy in charge of the experiments made her call him 'Papa'. Why are Dads so fucked up? How could he - ”

His voice cracked, and when Steve looked over, Billy was wiping under an eye with the pad of his thumb while he turned to scowl out of the window away from him. It was all he got about their meeting, and it was enough.

Steve didn't know what to say, he didn't think sympathy would work here, he didn't think Billy was looking for pity either. Choosing silence all the way back to his house, he finally gave in to the need to say something when Billy was already down the hallway and opening the door to the guest room.

“She's a strong kid. She was lucky to make friends of good people. She'll be okay,” he didn't know why his heart raced when Billy turned to look at him, eyes glinting in the dim light of the hallway, and he didn't know why he was so disappointed when all he did was turn away without saying anything.


	8. Happy Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You're right. My future isn't your future. We're different people. None of you are – none of you are my - “ Words failed him when his lungs seized up. Pressing the heel of one hand to his chest to rub in hard circles, Steve managed a full breath before trying again, “I am the only one who made it, which means - ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to share all of your thoughts with me. Things happen in this chapter I never planned! All I can say is, Future Steve needs a hug. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

[steve, 37]

Spending all of his time and energy worrying about how to get Billy Hargrove to consider him with something other than complete mistrust was not worth it. Steve figured that if the kid still didn't want to open up to him at all, even though he'd literally saved his life a month ago, it would end up working against him if he tried to force anything. After that first awkward night at Joyce's with Harrington, staring toward the bedroom as if he might be able to hear something if he focused long enough, the man decided he didn't need to be at Billy's meetings with El anymore.

“Tell me when they're at a point that will confirm Billy even has her powers,” Steve had called Harrington to tell him this, “For all we know it could have been a fluke.”

Which was the other thing – he couldn't bank on Billy eventually figuring out how to use his powers the way El had been able to, because if he never made it then Steve would have wasted all of that time and still had nothing.

Dustin and Lucas did end up volunteering around the station after all, and Steve found their presence in the office soothing. Mornings spent letting them follow him around the office asking questions and chattering were his favourite kind. It was during one of these that Leandra had to step in to interrupt.

“Chief Summers, there's a call for you,” her nose started wrinkling as she spoke , “I tried to take a message but he wouldn't leave a name or number. Said to tell you that he got your message from Joyce?”

Smile disappearing instantly, Steve thanked Leandra as he straightened in his chair and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“Have you got any filing or organizing these boys can do?” he ignored the twin frowns on their faces, their curiosity would go unanswered for now. Leandra, helpful as always, ushered them out of the office and shut the door behind her.

Good. Steve didn't want any distractions while he talked to Murray.

“This is Summers,” he greeted, grip on the phone perhaps a little harder than required.

“ _Steve Summers, nee Harrington?”_

“I suppose,” Steve agreed, relieved that his assumption was correct. Turned out that Murray was the type of person whose contact was conducted solely on their terms. Knowing that heading out to his place with Joyce was not the way to get on the Private Investigator's good side, he had waited the man out.

And now, finally, maybe he could start getting somewhere.

“ _I've got a whole file here on you, Steve Harrington. Birth certificate, school and hospital records, social security number, some character accounts. I've also got a file on Steve Summers. You know, I see what year you graduated from the police academy, but none of your classmates remember a guy named Steve Summers.”_

“Makes sense,” Steve admitted, hoping this was a lead up to Murray admitting that he believed he was from the future, “I only got here a month ago.”

“ _From the future, so I'm told. And why are you here now, Steve?”_

“To shut down any attempts to reach the Upside Down,” he simplified, truth without all the complexity.

“ _And you need my help with that?”_ Murray still sounded suspicious, but now Steve wondered if it was because he wasn't sure how he could help, rather than it being about the plausibility of Steve's existence.

“I think we can agree that the Russian lab under the mall had to have been there long before the Hawkins facility was shut down. Don't tell me you haven't been looking into what else they might have been up to, especially since Joyce probably told you what I know about Hopper,” Steve knew it was risky to guess like this, but Murray's silence was all he needed to hear to know he was on to something, “I can give you a list of places around the world that were involved with experiments involving gates to the Upside Down, would that help? I just need to know what's up and running already, or if there's somewhere that I don't know about. Is that...I mean, I know you're a PI but I wondered if you had any contacts that might be helpful?”

Silence, and for a while.

“ _If I look into any of this, it doesn't mean I trust you,”_ Murray began, and Steve's eyes shut in passive relief. Thankfully he didn't require trust from Murray, he just needed the man to believe him enough to work with him, _“Tell me the list.”_

Obligingly, Steve rattled a list of places off quietly along with the years he suspected they might have been active.

“Is there a better way I can contact you?” Steve opened a desk drawer to withdraw a pencil.

“ _No. I'll contact you.”_

The line cut off with a click, the dial-tone fading into nothing as he pulled the phone from his ear and hung it up on the dock. Leaning his elbows heavily on the desk, he pressed his palms to his eyes and breathed purposefully to inhale logical progress and exhale unnecessary optimism. As successful as it was to add Murray to his network, there was no reason to feel like that solved anything at all.

Reminding himself not to obsessively hope for the best, Steve immersed himself in menial police work instead. Hawkins was thankfully full of brainless distractions, and days passed offering nothing more.

When sky cleared at the end of a cloudy, drizzly day at the end of summe break, it was just in time to let the sun streak the sky with oranges and pinks while it settled. Celebrating their last night of summer before school started in the morning, the teens had gathered at the Wheelers'.

Steve only knew because Lucas and Dustin had told him that morning, Lucas saying Will still wanted to play a game, but pretty sure they were just going to have a bonfire in the back yard. Dustin tried to convince him that he'd be welcome, but Steve declined.

He'd been putting off moving into his apartment, as it took a while to get some working appliances and furniture in place. Steve chose that night to make it official, and easily packed his meagre belongings into his squad car and then carried the box up to his place on the second floor of the building.

Clothes put away in a pile in his closet, dinner purchased to go from the diner below his apartment, Steve ate cross-legged on the balcony in order to enjoy the sunset.

The phone ran just as he popped his last fry in his mouth. Wiping his salty hands on a napkin he then crumpled up and tossed into the takeaway box, Steve hopped up and stepped into his living room, jogging through to where the phone was waiting in the kitchen. This had been his other stipulation before moving, he'd needed a working phone before he left the motel.

“Summers,” he greeted habitually.

“ _Steve, get over here,_ ” Joyce's voice shook.

“Something wrong?” he asked, always ready for the next disaster.

“No, it's – you were _right_. It's Hop, he's back. Just drove up, no warning or anything. He's got a black eye that looks a few weeks old and almost no hair but it's him. You were _right_ ,” Joyce's rambling would have continued if Steve hadn't cut her off.

“He's back!?” Steve heart dropped right to his toes, breathing ragged with something he wasn't sure was terror or excitement, “I'll be right over.”

This was the beginning, he thought as he raced through his apartment. Wallet and car keys in hand, the man didn't even stop to make sure his front door was locked when he slammed it behind him. The beginning of finally setting the world completely right, the way it could have been for them all those years ago – the first time around – if they had any actual idea of the magnitude of the evil they were up against.

Maybe earlier in the week it had been easy to not let himself get his hopes up about Murray, but knowing that Hop was back? Almost a year before he was supposed to have fought his way out? The drive to the Byers' was a blur, Steve's mind clogging with hopeful premonitions of the friends he'd left behind, what sort of happiness they might find now that he knew he had actually done some good here.

And there, that was the real heart of it all. Steve hadn't known until this moment, until hearing that Hopper was alive and here already, that his presence in this past had done any _real_ good. Something in the back of his mind tried to remind him about Billy, but his relief didn't allow for the consideration of any second string thoughts.

Driving recklessly enough that he spared a moment to be grateful he was in a police cruiser, Steve squealed to a stop in front of the Byers'.

Eyes on the two figures sitting side by side on the front step of the porch, he threw the car into park while he opened the door. Hinges creaking while the vehicle idled, Steve's attention was glued to Hopper. With less hair than before the incident and many more scratches and bruises, Hopper turned his suspicious eye to Steve.

“Oh my god, you _are_ here,” he threw himself toward him, arms wide and chest tight. Ignoring Hopper's surprised yelp – and the fact that his arms were caught under the hug – Steve squeezed his arms around the Chief just as hard as he was clenching his eyes shut, “I can't believe it. How did you get out? Was it Owens? I bet it was Owens, that fantastic sonofabitch.”

Hopper shrugged his shoulders, trying to pull his head back and away from where Steve's hair was rubbing against the side of his face, “Jesus, kid.”

“I didn't really think Owens - “ Steve's head shook, uncertain how to describe the emotions folding together in his chest, and then his gaze snapped to Hopper, “I _am_ glad you're back, but I - “

“You are the reason they knew where to look. Joyce was just telling me everything,” Hopper still had that heavy brow tilted down toward him, but his arms uncrossed to give way to sincerity, “Billy's alive. Does he really have El's powers?”

“I didn't see anything, but that's what it sounds like, and I had no idea this might happen if - ”

“No, _Steve_ , Christ,” Hopper surprised him with a heavy hand on his shoulder, a steel soft look in his eye when he cut off Steve's defensive rambling, “It's fine by me. I love that girl, and maybe without powers she'll be less of a target.”

That was a fair point, and Steve was only too happy to concede it when he realized she wasn't here. “Does El know yet?”

“She's at a party,” Hopper shook his head, hand falling from Steve's shoulder, “Joyce says it's the first thing she's gone to since that night. I figure I'll be here when she gets back, let her have her fun.”

Steve's jaw dropped, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Hopper's eyes rolled, one side of his mouth twitching up, “Yes, obviously. Joyce called the Wheelers', Jonathan's bringing her back right now.”

Steve froze, staring at a man who he used to look up to. Who he _still_ looked up to, even if he only had a couple years on him now. Hopper'd been through hell and back only to be introduced to an impossible Steve from the future, he was probably aching with the need to see El, and he somehow had the presence to feed him that dry line like they were old friends. It felt so much like many moments he'd spent with his Hopper, that Steve allowed himself to stare, grateful that even though these were different version of his friends, at least it had felt perfect for one second.

“Did the trip through time fry your brain?” Hopper leaned forward, peering close enough it seemed like he might be assessing his pupil size for possible brain damage.

“Nah, just what happens when I try to put up with your sense of humour,” Steve deadpanned, and when they gave each other twin tight-lipped grins Joyce huffed a laugh beside them.

“Oh my god, you're equally awful,” she slipped an arm around Hopper's waist, surprise widening his eyes even as he adjusted easily to the feeling of her tucked under his shoulder.

Steve was struck speechless by the memory of a confession full of regret from the future. Hopper had always wondered what it would have been like to have had the chance to give things with Joyce an honest go. This was it, wasn't it? This was finally their chance.

“Listen,” Steve had to clear his throat, “Want me to wait inside until El gets here?”

Hopper took a few extra seconds pulling back from the silent moment he was sharing with Joyce, but he refocused himself once he realized Steve was already skirting them and making his way up the porch steps.

“Hey, uh, Harrington?”

“Summers,” Steve corrected, “Or 'Steve', but I guess last names is a thing for Police Chiefs around here.”

“Steve, then,” Hopper decided, and Steve received the message that he was not in charge any more, “There's a kid in there, in the kitchen. He was waiting for us when we landed in Indianapolis, said Owens told him he'd be safe if he came with me. He has some documents that look hot off the press, and I wasn't ready to believe him but he's got one of those tattoos in the same spot as El. I, uh, I'm not really sure what to do with him now, I guess he could be one of the ones El met last year?”

The last streaks of burned pink were disappearing from the sky, sinking right along with Steve's stomach when he turned away from Hopper before he could finish. Striding across the porch, Steve manoeuvred through the door, across the living room, and into the kitchen, all while trying to ignore the pressure on his chest.

Sitting at the table with a spoon digging into a jar of peanut butter, face turned toward him and wide-eyed with the knowledge that he'd been caught red-handed, was the exact person Steve had been afraid might be sitting there. Years younger than the first time he'd met him, was Greg Summers.

Chilled, Steve stood there and stared, long enough for Greg's surprise to fade into curiosity and then into an unsettled sort of wary fear. Long enough for Greg to offer him a spoon of peanut butter. Long enough for Greg to ask if he was okay. Long enough for Greg to not so subtly check over Steve's shoulder to see if anyone else was coming in. Long enough to become concerned.

“You've started crying, you know,” Greg pointed out owlishly.

Ducking his head to wipe away the wetness, Steve cursed while trying to get a hold of himself.

“Is this a test?” Greg asked finally, expression easing into something purposely blank, and that's finally what snapped Steve out of it.

“No, God – no, Greg, that wasn't a test, and now that you're here there isn't going to be any more tests or experiments,” Steve promised, making sure to keep in his place even if he couldn't help but sounding far too invested in someone he supposedly just met.

He couldn't be more than maybe fifteen or sixteen years old now, when Greg had been twenty two the first time they'd met, and Steve only two years older. This was just cruel, a happy nightmare that had Steve feeling _ancient_. Of course, it meant that Greg had a chance for a real life now, even more than the one he had shared with Steve in a different future. So really, if his heart had to break for something he figured that was a good reason why.

“That's what Dr. Owens said.” Years of being lied to had Greg eyeing Steve so skeptically that the fight boiled in Steve's veins, “Oh! Are you the one who came from the future? I have so many questions about time!”

With the ability to almost stop time – even if only for as briefly as four or five seconds – of course he'd have questions. Steve wanted to answer all of them, but his wretched throat felt like there was something stitching his vocal chords together.

“Greg told me he remembers El from when they were younger,” Hopper called, following his words through to the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Steve's disastrous expression, “You need to sit down, Summers?”

Knees faintly wobbling, Steve hadn't had a spare functioning brain cell left to realize he was legitimately dizzy. Telling himself that his eyes were only blurry because he'd been staring at Greg for so long, he blinked and forced himself to meet Hopper's critical eye, but in the end it was Joyce who bustled in.

“Sit down before you fall down, we've had too many damn tragedies in this house already,” she had a hand on Steve's shoulder to usher him forward until he was standing in front of a dining room chair, where he safely sat down.

“'Summers'? That's a nice last name,” Greg was almost pouting, and Steve tried to laugh but the sound couldn't make it through the thickness at his throat.

“What's yours?” he asked instead, dazed.

“'Jones',” he sighed, “Dr. Owens said we needed a name common enough that it wouldn't be weird I wasn't related to others with the same last name.”

“Steve,” Joyce tried, handing him a glass of water he down instantly.

“I'm okay,” he lied.

News of Hopper's returned had taken obvious precedents over the party, because the Byers' place filled up quickly after El burst in. She made straight for Hopper, knocking her head into his chest before they wrapped their arms around each other. Maybe there were tears from more than just those two, but Steve couldn't keep track when Greg was so fascinating in front of him. Was he even the same person, he wondered, free now from living as an experiment six years earlier than last time? The teen's eyes shone, wide as he watched the others interact, taking in their relieved happiness, their disbelief at seeing their friend again. As the only new face among all of them, Greg went unnoticed for all of about ten seconds.

“Who's that?” Mike was the first to ask, always so eager to get ahead of anything new as soon as he could.

“You can call me Greg,” he replied, serious and skittish, like he hadn't been totally sure if he was allowed to answer for himself.

“Did the Russians take you, too?” Dustin followed up.

Greg's head tilted slightly when he shook it.

“Did you know he was coming, Chief?” Dustin's focus switched, and even though he was addressing Steve it wasn't enough to tempt Hopper away from his reunion with El.

Steve had no idea how to reply.

Especially when Greg set his focus on him too, just as curious about the answer as Dustin was.

“No, I – I guess I should have suspected,” Steve offered shakily, the answering uptick of the corner of Greg's mouth twisting like a knife in his chest.

“We knew each other, in your time?” Greg's question was all he could take.

Steve nodded once and then had to close his eyes and tuck his chin to his chest, the fingers of one of his hands scratching through his scalp. Memories crept up, the ones he'd tried to ignore because they hurt too much to recall. Yes, he knew Greg, much more intimately than was now appropriate, considering.

Steve's mind wallowed in anguish. If he was the only one with memories of things that were now never going to happen, did they even count?

Elated as they all were that hopper was back, it was no surprise at the general feeling of wonder towards Steve. They hadn't known for sure that Billy would have died that day, so Hopper's return really confirmed his allegation, and finally had them all believing him fully. Which was great, honestly, only he couldn't find it in him to give a single fuck what any of them had to say, whether to him or Greg or Hopper. Jealously tickled at the back of his neck like a cold breeze because it was always going to be like this, wasn't it? This was the closest he'd ever get to reuniting with the love of his goddamn life, and all he could manage to feel was despair.

Pushing back from the table to stand suddenly, he forced his way through the kitchen, hands out to grab at Harrington's shoulders. The teen still had his car keys in hand, had been watching curiously without asking many questions, but his expression twisted in startled concern when Steve got his hands on him.

“Harrington?”

“Whoa, you don't look so good.”

“Am I still here?”

“What?” Little Steve reached up, squeezing his forearms hard as if to prove that he was.

“Can you see me?” Steve raised one of his hands, holding it palm out toward the light in the kitchen, testing his transparency.

“Dude, you're losing it,” Harrington sounded worried, which was nice of him, “Of course you're here. We can all see you.”

He supposed that was a good thing, but it still stung like bad news. Eyes getting hot, Steve squeezed them shut and ducked his head, leaning onto his hold on Harrington so much that when the teen backed into the living room, he followed.

“You're right. My future isn't your future. We're different people. None of you are – none of you are _my_ \- “ Words failed him when his lungs seized up. Pressing the heel of one hand to his chest to rub in hard circles, Steve managed a full breath before trying again, “I am the only one who made it, which means - ”

“Come on,” Harrington cut him off, frowning but sure, like he knew exactly what Steve had been going to say, “Come on. We're going to go, okay? Nance? Can you get the rest of the kids home? _No_ , Dustin, I'll call you tomorrow.”

Time bent and this reality flowed around him, but Steve felt diseased with nostalgia and let himself be ushered into Harrington's car, driven across town, and into Harrington's house without a word. He closed his eyes and wished, but nothing changed, and soon he was standing in a familiar den, TV on at his left, and Billy Hargrove lounging on the couch across from it. His lazy focus drifted from the television to the way Steve had his shoulders shrugged and his arms crossed.

“What's he doing here?” Billy asked Harrington, already looking back to the TV.

“Just having a hard night, gonna let him have my room,” Harrington explained quickly, glancing his way and shifting from foot to foot like he didn't know if he wanted to sit down or not, “Hopper's back.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy's focus sharpened, and he sat up to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees.

“Brought someone with him,” Harrington's hands found his hips, and he curved one eyebrow toward Steve, “He spooked you, didn't he? You know him from the future.”

The thing was that he was so tired, and even though Harrington eased his tone to soften the blow of the accusation, he didn't have the energy to keep anything at bay.

“I loved him. Still do.”

Their expressions dropped, colour sapped from both of their faces. Steve didn't care if his younger self wasn't ready to hear it, didn't care if he now regretted asking.

“I took his last name when we got married, and now he's a _kid_. Did you know he was given a different last name than the one he chose for himself when I'd met him? Greg Summers is never going to exist in this world,” Steve paced the room, ignoring when Harrington sank down into a chair and Billy scowled at him, “It's just more proof that things are changed here, now. So why the fuck am I still hanging around? Can't I stop existing yet?”

Steve waited for anything from either of them, but as the TV chirped unrepentant they stayed silent. Unsure why he might have been hoping for some sort of understanding or acknowledgement, Steve took their silence as evidence that he was truly alone in this and fled to his old bedroom.

The night slipped by slowly, each sleepless moment offering its own burning thought, sinking memory. Steve was up before the sun, and even though he'd forgotten until he'd made it to the driveway that his car wasn't here, he started the trek to the Byers' on foot. At the end of the street he looked over to find Harrington's car rolling to a stop beside him, but it was Billy that leaned over and pulled at the passenger's side door handle and then pushed the door open.

“Get in.”

Suspicion coloured his features even as he did as ordered. With his chin tilted up and a pillow case crease still pressed in a line on his cheek, Billy watched calmly until he had settled and closed the door behind him. Having actively avoided him up until this moment, Steve knew this meant something big, but he didn't want to put the effort into figuring it all out. When Billy started driving, Steve closed his eyes and leaned back against the head rest.

Billy was a presence beside him, but Steve wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being the one to start a conversation. Ten minutes later they had pulled onto the Byers' property where his cruiser had stayed for the night, and that's when Billy finally opened his mouth.

“You've got to stop freaking Harrington out with your sad future shit, it messes with his head,” Billy didn't shy away when Steve turned to him fully, seeping disbelief.

What the fuck else was he supposed to do? He couldn't get the question past his lips, but his gaping must have been clue enough to his thoughts.

“If you're really here to give him a better future, then you can't keep whining about all the stuff you miss. He can't do anything about that. None of us can.”

Steve stared, unable to understand how Billy Hargrove had the capacity to be so logical about something on someone else's behalf. On _his_ behalf, sort of, but also completely not, because he was basically saying to keep his sad shit to himself and that was cruel on a whole other level, too. Teeth clenching, Steve sucked in a breath, intending to remind this kid that new developments didn't mean he was off the hook for what a piece of shit he was, but it wasn't meant to be.

“Are you listening to me?” Billy threw the car into park and leaned toward him, resolved, “You're not the only one who isn't supposed to be here. And I'm trying now, okay? So keep it the fuck together.”

Billy'd had to get right up in his face to make sure he was heard, ended up pressing his lips to Steve's, brief but determined. So much in his space that his words had no chance but to echo in repeat, and even if it pissed him off he welcomed it, because wallowing in a pity party wasn't what he was here to do. Attention thoroughly caught, Steve pulled back, one hand held up by Billy's shoulder just in case to keep him from following. He was mostly confused and a little horrified to see that Billy was _still_ scowling, jaw set like he was bracing himself to be yelled at or punched or something, which was sickening all on its own.

“You don't need to - ” Steve's head shook, anger exhausted. That wasn't what he wanted to say, “I'm going to keep it together. Don't – don't do that again.”

Billy's shoulders sagged but his expression didn't change when he nodded, and if Steve let out a frustrated scream at the top of his lungs on his drive back home at least there was no one there to hear.


	9. Strange, But No Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Steve,” Billy accused, enjoying this far too much, “Were you worried about me?”
> 
> Suddenly Harrington didn't have any trouble figuring out what to say. “Fuck you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...so excited to post this. Writing this chapter felt like A Process. It still sort of feels incomplete. Billy is in the middle of figuring out so many things that I just wanted to write about it forever. HOWEVER, must progress the actual plot of the story and not get stuck forever on helping Billy figure it all out. Onward!
> 
> Whether you're here to read or comment, I'm so thankful for you. Hope you enjoy this!

[billy, 18]

Windows down and foot heavy on the gas, Billy drove back to Harrington's with the music cranked, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. 'Don't do that again.' wasn't the same as 'You shouldn't have done that.', so the mild sting of rejection had barely done anything to curb the rush of adrenaline he'd felt the moment he'd kissed Steve Summers. How ridiculous, he tried to tell himself, for the sensation of such a brief moment linger on like it was. From the moment the older man had stepped into the den the night before he had been shrouded in a haze of distant panic, kissing him had seemed like a good way to pierce through and reach out to him.

Lurching to a stop in the driveway, Billy put the car into park and sat there, staring ahead. Last night had been - well, it was enough to say that he'd never heard any man admit to liking another man with such passion. Summers had just blurted it out in a way that had him wondering if he would have admitted it so freely had anyone asked him plainly if he'd left a significant other behind, or if last night he had just been too upset to be embarrassed. Considering who he was, he'd probably set his jaw and stand his ground.

But what about little Harrington? He'd looked horrified after Summers stomped away from them. He'd help up a hand when Billy turned to him and then left the room as well, shoulders hunched up by his ears. Billy had seen dogs tuck their tails and run with less subtlety, and for some reason it had pissed him off that he hadn't said anything.

As if beckoned by his thoughts, Harrington left the front door open in his wake and came striding toward him from the house while Billy twisted the keys and pulled them from the ignition.

“Where the hell did you go? I almost called Hopper to report a kidnapping.” Harrington stopped and crossed his arms, staring him down expectantly.

Unfolding himself from the front seat, Billy shut the door behind him and sauntered around the front of the car to lean languidly back against the side closer to Harrington.

“Really?” Tossing the keys toward him, he let himself admire the way Harrington's stern scowl hardly budged when he caught them mid air. “Were you worried more about the car, or Summers?”

Crossing one ankle over the other and tucking his thumbs into his pockets, Billy watched as Steve clenched his jaw. Fingers pulled through his hair in a clear attempt to stall, and that was telling enough.

“Oh, _Steve_ ,” Billy accused, enjoying this far too much, “Were you worried about _me_?”

Suddenly Harrington didn't have any trouble figuring out what to say. “Fuck you.”

Almost positive that Harrington's face had flushed red, Billy was quick to push off the car and follow when he turned to head back into the house.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Billy leered, reckless as he watched close for Steve's reaction. He pulled the front door closed behind him and kept up all the way into the kitchen.

“Maybe you should ask Summers nicely,” Harrington shot back, knocking loudly around the kitchen to retrieve first a jug of milk and then a box of Cookie Crisp.

“I did give him a ride this morning,” Billy mused, pulling two bowls out of a cupboard and sending Harrington a wink when he slid them across the counter toward him.

“Wow. You've really outdone yourself, Hargrove. That was gross.” Harrington opened the cereal and started to pour. “You heard the man last night anyways, we're different people. So I guess if you do have the hots for me, might as well go for him – the heartbroken married guy, whose husband is barely younger than you.”

Billy rooted through the silverware drawer until he came up with two spoons just as Harrington finished the portions of cereal and moved on to milk.

“You don't need to do that, Harrington.” Billy waited until the milk was poured and then held out one spoon. Harrington accepted it after sliding one of the bowls of cereal over. “I'll keep your secret.”

It was supposed to be funny, just that thing he did where he'd lean into something too much to make it a more obvious joke. Except then they'd both picked up their bowls of cereal and each had their first spoonful while turning to lean back against the counter so they could see each other better.

Smirking while he chewed, Billy hadn't recognized the domesticity of the last few minutes until Harrington froze, eyes dodging from one bowl to the other and back again. Billy watched as he set his bowl back down just long enough to put the milk and cereal away, and then brought it with him out of the kitchen.

Harrington took a seat at the table in the dining room, but Billy hovered in the doorway. They'd really gotten used to each other, hadn't they? Conversation waned enough to allow only the crunching of Cookie Crisp to echo in the room, and for Billy to admit silently to himself that it was absolutely true, he would keep Harrington's secrets.

“You think Summers told anyone else that in his future he married the new kid?” Billy wondered aloud, hardly even meaning to ask.

Harrington sighed, shoulders sagging before he answered. “I don't know, man. Maybe we just keep it to ourselves until someone else brings it up?”

Agreeing with a nod, he let silence take over once again until it felt too heavy to sustain.

“Why are you up so early?” Billy asked.

Harrington, who'd just had another spoonful of cereal, leaned back in his seat and tapped on his shirt's logo. Really, Billy should have noticed that he was wearing his Family Video shirt. “Some of us have to work for a living.”

Would have stung more if Harrington didn't have the full run of what was basically a mansion.

“What are you doing today?”

“Dressing change, meditation,” Billy shrugged. He'd also had another meeting with Jane planned for later, but he doubted she'd be up for it now considering Hopper's apparent return.

“Any progress? With the, you know - ” Harrington wiggled his fingers in the air near his head, a barbaric reference to the powers.

“Telekinesis?”

“Yeah, that.”

His head shook in disbelief that this was part of a real conversation, the action also the answer to his question.

“Not a single fucking thing,” he admitted, suddenly aware of how completely useless he was.

“You'll get the hang of it.” Harrington spoke to his bowl, but the reassurance hung unexpected in the air.

“We'll see.” Billy turned to deposit his dishes in the sink.

“Hey,” Harrington's voice carried easily from the other room, “My parents are gonna be home next weekend. Do you think – you'll still be here, right?”

Having avoided any discussions about their living situation for so long, bringing it up now highlighted how pathetic it was to need somewhere to stay. Billy didn't answer for long enough that Harrington spoke up again.

“I just want to give them a heads up, you know?”

“You haven't told them you're letting a stranger live in your house?” Billy expertly shifted the focus of the conversation.

“You're strange, but you're no stranger,” Harrington replied, coming into the kitchen then with his own set of dirty dishes.

“If your parents know me it's only because I beat you up,” Billy pointed out, and Harrington met his eyes.

“Hence, the heads up.”

“Might as well."

Harrington nodded like this was a casual conversation. Maybe Billy was reading too much into this, or maybe talking about it out loud had him realizing that he didn't like being so dependent on someone else, but one thing was becoming clear. He needed to get out of here.

“Cool. Guess I'll, uh,” Harrington sent him a jaunty wave over his shoulder as he headed out of the kitchen toward the front door. “See you later.”

As always, he was thankful that Harrington was off doing his own thing when Carol showed up. Simpering and shallow as she could be, her car was reliable enough that he had no problem playing into her sympathy. It was like she enjoyed fussing over him, and had very little to say in regards to him staying with Harrington as long as he talked about how much he was looking forward to getting out of there once he was healed enough.

“Can you come to dinner with me and Tommy tonight? He's been such a bitch lately and you always know how to set him straight again,” she asked once they were on the road. Neither of them were big fans of small talk.

“He's always a bitch, Carol.” Billy didn't bother watching himself, whether they were together or not seemed to change by the day and he honestly couldn't care less.

“No one else was offering,” she replied. The sidelong look she gave him accompanied by her sharp tone had him thinking she was either being defensive or trying to flirt with him. Neither option was attractive.

“You need to get out of Hawkins for a while,” he advised, head rolling back against the head rest until his blue eyes found her, “Take it from a known asshole, he's too dumb to know what's good for him. At this point it'll take something fucking drastic to teach him anything new. A near death experience or the loss of his good arm, maybe, I dunno. Do yourself a favour and get out now.”

Carol scoffed, but when she glanced over to find he only had a tight grin to offer as follow up, she all but pouted in confusion. Bruce Springsteen took over, and Billy was content to let the song play out the rest of the way to the clinic.

“This is healing really well, Billy.” Marlina, the nurse who usually changed his dressings, was adding the last piece of medical tape to secure it in place when she spoke up. “I wouldn't be surprised if we could leave it open to air within a couple of weeks.”

“Another couple of weeks _still_?” Billy hadn't meant to sound so ungrateful, but by then it would be close to two months since the injury.

“Don't you remember how extensive your wound was? That tree branch looked like it had teeth.” Marlina referenced the story that had been fabricated when he'd first gone into the hospital, she'd never once doubted it. “You're doing great. And over time even the scars will fade some.”

The healing might not be going as quickly as he'd hoped, but at least Billy was confident that he could make scars look good. Besides that, Marlina had always done her best to stay positive with him, even when he'd initially been in such a dark place.

“Thank you,” he said, awkward merely because he wasn't used to acknowledging gratitude like this.

Marlina paused in the middle of taking her gloves off to give him her full attention, grin heartfelt. “You're welcome. Take care of yourself, okay?”

And wasn't that the nicest way to say goodbye?

After arranging his next appointment at the desk, Billy exited the building to find Carol sitting on the trunk of her car, feet on the bumper while she waited for him, smoking.

“How'd it go?” she asked, dropping the cigarette to the ground and then hopping off the car.

“Still healing,” he told her with a shrug, accepting the sympathetic twist to her mouth as they climbed into her car at the same time. To say she was surprised when Billy told her to drop him off at the police station was an understatement, but she did it anyways.

“Are you sure you don't want me to wait?” Carol's uncertainty was clear as pulled to a stop in front of the building.

“Nah, I've got things to take care of in town after,” Billy said, climbing out of the car. He shut the door behind him and then came around to the driver's side door where Carol was waiting with her elbow tucked outside of the window. “Thanks for the ride, babe.”

Stretching to plant a kiss on his cheek, Carol giggled. “Don't go saying that too loud, people might get the wrong idea.”

Billy winked. “That's the fun part.”

Smirk fading when Carol pulled away, Billy turned and took a breath before heading into the building. There was no real reason he was here other than a feeling, like he needed to come to check in with Summers, make sure he knew he wasn't going to jump him again.

Probably, Billy silently amended, the memory hot in his mind.

“Is the Chief in?” he asked at the desk. The woman sitting on the other side looked up, gaze lingering for a moment before she stepped into the office to check and then waved him over.

Unprepared as he was, he really hadn't expected to find Hopper behind the desk. Lounging in one of the chairs facing it was Summers, in plain clothes.

“Billy Hargrove.” Hopper was black and blue in some places, hair shaved short and his shirt roomy around his arms. Whether he meant to intimidate or not, the man set his shoulders and clasped his hands together on top of the papers he had out in front of him. “Have a seat.”

The only free chair was the one beside Summers, and Billy wasn't inclined to take up the offer when Summers' refusal to acknowledge him felt deliberate. If the man was just going to be awkward about the other night then he didn't want to be here for any longer than necessary.

“Heard you were back,” he said. Poor excuse for a greeting, but Billy had no particular opinion toward Hopper besides how he might feel in general about a policeman. That his daughter was basically tutoring him in the supernatural only complicated things.

Hopper grunted, acknowledging, and then moved right along. “I've been hearing things about you, too. Been spending some time with my daughter.”

Billy couldn't help reacting in kind when Hopper narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. Did he really thing there was something else to that?

“We can keep the bedroom door open next time, if it'll make you feel better,” he offered casually, satisfied with the way words could get someone riled up so quickly. Hopper's chest puffed up so much it looked like someone had taken an air pump to it.

“She's not his type, Jim,” Summers spoke before Hopper had a chance to self-combust, turning to steer a frown in Billy's direction.

Billy had never been one to back down if someone caught his eye, but it still somehow felt like he lost when Summers only bothered to look at him for a mere two seconds before turning back to the Chief.

Heart beating angrily against his ribs, Billy crossed his arms in a way he knew showed off his biceps and smirked. “He's got a point, I prefer them older.”

A little more confused than upset, Hopper took a moment to eye Summers skeptically before huffing.

“As long as you stick to your demographic, I guess we won't have a problem.” He nodded once. “Now tell us why you're here. I'm going to assume it wasn't to be threatened by me?”

To think that he'd come here to check in on Summers, when the man hadn't done anything but frown at him since he got here. This was worse than last night, and he wondered with a scowl why he thought anything might change. Distrusting Summers had been a good first instinct, hadn't it? He realized now that the only reason the man had lost it in front of them was because he had no one else to go to. The kiss must have been a fucking joke to him. Breakfast with Harrington this morning had felt like real progress, but now was proof of everything they'd been saying – Summers was nothing like Harrington, and he had no use for Billy other than whatever fucking powers he might have.

“I was supposed to meet with Jane at the Byers' around seven tonight. Is that still on?”

Surprised, Hopper turned to Summers to once again be left with no helpful response. “I'll talk to El when I get home, okay? How can I reach you?”

“I'm staying with Harrington,” Billy said, noticing Hopper at least didn't seem surprised by that, “Do you know his number?”

Hopper nodded, and that was enough for him. An awkward thing that could barely count as goodbye later and he was gone, with not another word or look from Summers. Not that he expected anything, he told himself, scowling at the world while he stomped through the station and out onto the street. Emotions had always spread through his body the way constellations dotted the night sky, numerous and undeniable as they were, he had no ability to name them or understand what they meant.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk just after noon on the first day of school, Hawkins existed all around him in its bland glory, unaware of the fire broiling under his skin. Sick of feeling useless, ashamed, undeserving, _not enough_ , Billy was soon overcome with an urgent need to prove something to someone, and maybe that's what brought him back to the pool.

“Billy!” Lisa exclaimed when she saw him standing at the front desk. As the pool supervisor, she'd probably had to personally fill in for a lot of the lifeguard needs that he and Heather had left.

Determination souring with that single thought, Billy forced himself to smile.

“Hey, Lisa.”

“Are you okay? I heard the accident was awful, but you look great. Was your car really totalled?” She asked so genuinely that it twisted at the knife of guilt forever wedged in his soul.

“Nothing but a pile of rubble,” he confirmed, knowing he could never ask for his job back now, “Just came to check in.”

“I'm glad you did! It's good to see you.” Lisa even reached out to squeeze at his shoulder. “It's too bad you weren't able to come to Heather's family's memorial. We put a picture album together for her Grandparents. There were a couple of nice Polaroids of you two together.”

“I'm really sorry I missed it,” Billy managed eventually, voice thick. Assuming the best of him, Lisa came around to the front of the desk to give her grieving ex-coworker a hug. If only she knew, he thought, but Billy accepted her hug anyways, horrified and regretful enough in the moment for the both of them.

“Listen,” Lisa pulled back first, “We're going to be closing the pool up for the season next weekend, but I'm going to keep your name on the roster for next summer, okay?”

He nodded, not bothering to tell her that he already knew he wasn't going to be able to ever come back here.

The walk back to the main street in town from the pool was spent dealing with an odd combination of defeat and lingering determination. He needed to start pulling his weight, not merely because he was free-loading off Harrington, but in life in general. After everything today, he figured it would be okay to really start looking for work tomorrow.

Today he would let himself head into Family Video with no other pretense than to find Harrington among the aisles, returning tapes to their proper places.

“Are you done soon?” Too tired to be anything by straightforward, he used the question to get King Steve's attention. “I could use a ride home.”

Harrington's brown eyes shone, startled, but he didn't brush him off or scowl, he merely nodded once. “Shift's over in fifteen.”

Much changed from their candour that morning, the ride home was silent. Dinner was silent, too. Other than a quick phone call from Max to talk about her first day back at school and a call from Hopper to confirm that their meeting was on for tonight, Billy didn't speak at all. The drive to the woods was silent as well, apart from one question and its answer.

“How was your day, man?” Harrington had spent half the evening so far pretending he hadn't been sneakily watching Billy, and that was the only question he could muster.

“Fine,” Billy replied from a dark place where he was certain that Harrington didn't actually care.

An unfamiliar teenager answered the door to Hopper's cabin in the woods. Tall and skinny, the dark haired boy's expression defaulted to a faint perma-smirk, the kind meant to distract from close observation. Only one second into meeting him and Billy could recognize the calculation in his eyes. This was a kid who'd grown up learning the importance of keeping your eyes open. He must have seen some shit, he thought, stomach twisting once he realized this was the kid Summers had talked about.

“Steve Harrington, right? Summers bolted with you so fast last time, we never got to meet.” He spoke quickly, like he expected someone to shut him up any second. “I'm Greg. I talk to myself sometimes too, but not the way you do.”

Harrington was speechless for a moment, and actually glanced at Billy in uncertainty before the teen barreled on.

“It's a joke! Next time I'll warn you ahead of time so you'll be ready to laugh.” Greg's expression sobered when that didn't get any reaction either, both of them still too stunned.

“Billy Hargrove,” he greeted next. “The boy Steve changed the timeline for. Or, _man_ , I guess. Uh – Hi.”

When Greg held out a hand toward him to shake, Billy was so thrown off by the new kid's behaviour that he could only stare at it. Greg got the message soon after, and let his hand fall awkwardly to his side. Only then did he finally step back from the door to allow Harrington and Billy to have room enough to enter the house.

Well, _hut_ was more like it, but that wasn't important when all Billy could think about was what Greg had said.

“Changed the timeline?” He turned slowly, taking in the underwhelming inside of the small, open concept area. Nodding his greeting in Jane's direction and mostly ignoring Hopper beside her, he continued full circle until he was back to eyeing the new kid expectantly.

“Yeah, you know, how when he came back he started a whole new...” Greg trailed off when Billy's scowl deepened. At least this absurdness was almost enough to completely distract him from the cautious way Harrington seemed to be surveying the new kid.

“We like to imagine time - our lives - going along one path, right? A straight line?” Greg had started over, and Billy wasn't the only one paying rapt attention. “In his own time, we would imagine 30-something Steve living somewhere further along the same line we're following now, yes? But when he came back, it created a fork in the road of time. Totally different path than what he lived, but still our original time because it's the first time any of _us_ are living it.”

Frowning while he thought it all over, Billy shook his head. “I thought he came from a future where the world ended.”

Sorrowful, Greg nodded. “That's what he said, right? Which means everyone he knew is probably dead. We may look like his friends once did, but to him we're more like clones than anything else. We're strangers to him. I think that's why he freaked out with me. I'm just another person from the future with no memory of him. At all. I hadn't even met _you_ yet.”

He was talking to Harrington, who was wearing an expression Billy could relate to deep within his soul. A real 'What the fuck?' sort of thing. With everyone quiet to try and let that all sink in, Greg's restlessness grew until he could deal with the quiet no longer.

“I think about time a lot,” he admitted, reassuring no one.

“Why's that?” Harrington had to ask, and Billy noticed Hopper's shoulders sagging curiously, his head tilting back to peer up at the ceiling.

“Because of this.”

“What the fuck?” He stepped back as he spun, unconsciously standing right between Harrington and the new kid.

“Holy _shit_!” Harrington laughed, but Billy didn't think it was funny at all.

Somehow, between _Because_ and _of_ , Greg had managed to move front in front of them to right behind them instantaneously.

“Greg can pause time,” Jane offered helpfully, all her focus on admiring him.

“Seriously!”

Billy's eyes rolled at how fucking easy Harrington was to impress. Still, part of him was relieved when Greg admitted that his powers were limited to only being able to pause time for a handful of seconds, and even that required some recovery time in between. He even offered to sit in with Jane and Billy, answer any questions he might have and offer some suggestions to help bring Billy's reluctant powers forth.

All it took a glare for Jane to get that he wasn't comfortable with that. With a kind smile he would always be grateful for, Jane took his hand and brought him to her room. Keeping the door cracked open as promised allowed Hopper some piece of mind, but also made it easier to hear Harrington and Greg strike up a hesitant conversation. Not that it was hesitant for long, with the way each of them would take turns telling a story while the other Ooh-ed and Aah-ed in reply.

“Are you even trying, Billy?” Jane prompted half an hour later.

Scowling, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore how infuriatingly distracting it was to hear how Greg's current tale was making Harrington _laugh_. Gathering all of his focus and irritation, Billy stared down the juice box he was supposed to be trying to move and then closed his eyes and – nothing.

For _two weeks_. Two weeks of Harrington saying of course it wasn't a problem to come with him, even after Billy tried telling him that he was fine going on his own now. Two weeks of Greg offering to help but absolutely lighting up around Harrington. Two weeks of it becoming increasingly more obvious that they were actively avoiding talking about what it meant that they were getting to know each other, getting along. Two weeks of such an increase in frustration, until finally one night everything clicked into place, and a juice box jerked a foot to the left.

“Billy!” Jane exclaimed, surprised but elated, and even though he sort of felt like crying in relief, he wouldn't let himself be that guy.

“Don't!” He held up a finger to his lips, warning her with few words not to say anything to the others yet. She wasn't completely sold on the idea but she conceded for now, and Billy nodded toward the juice box, “Let's try that again.”


End file.
